


Body Check

by MaverickYoung



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, F/M, Falling In Love, Internal Conflict, Journey to Recovery, Model-Singer/Bodyguard AU, Triggers, heavy content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2018-06-05 14:43:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 105,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6709120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaverickYoung/pseuds/MaverickYoung
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A former child model turned global popstar Felicity Smoak has done well in keeping her humble beginnings - and herself, a mystery to the public. However, the past's inescapability brings the troubled singer to find an unlikely ally in her exceptionally stoical bodyguard, Oliver Queen. </p><p> </p><p>Bodyguard AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Happy Little Pill

**Author's Note:**

> Various songs are used to speak the unspoken for each chapter.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Little Pill: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xetPVVYAqsI

 

One year, six months, three weeks, and two days.

 _That_ was how long Oliver had been promoted to the head of her personal detail.

Felicity Smoak was... complicated. It would've simpler, to brush her off as another young celebrity client he’d been assigned to in the past. With her ever changing hair colours, routinely nightclub visits, and the constant ‘dead on the inside’ look in her bright but dazed blue orbs, it wouldn't have been hard for Oliver to jump fully at the idea that this tragic fame vibe she was giving off was most likely manufactured through years of Hollywood molding. 

Having somehow successfully transitioned from a child model to one of the most prominent singer-songwriter in the business, he was baffled as everyone else about the amount of worldwide attention she had garnered over her brief twenty two years of life. Still, many have chosen to extend the credit to her aloof nature and her obvious mass sex appeal to which have captured both the public and the media in a constant frenzy.  
  
It was why he had been among one of the new hires onto her ever growing security team.  
  
The first time Oliver met her, he was welcomed with tamed blonde hair and weary eyes. Oliver knew his client was of a smaller stature, but he didn’t quite consider how much until he found himself towering over her as they stood to introduce themselves. Even with her strapped in those ridiculous heels - which only made his eyes dilate without choice as they unconsciously chased the shape of her bare legs, leading up to the slit of that goddamn leather skirt.

Oliver wasn't naive enough to deny that Felicity Smoak was undoubtedly breathtaking in real life. After all, her name plastered on top of Maxim’s _‘Most Beautiful’_ for year after year had to come from some truths. But it was simply the way she looked - nothing more substantial to it. And this wasn't Oliver's first gig when it came to clients like these - aside from his inability to shake away this foreign feeling in his chest whenever his gaze would inevitably make its way to her. Oliver assured himself that it was his job to always have his eyes on her anyway. It wasn't, however, in his work description to imagine what those always frowning red lips would feel like against his own.

But Oliver was sure that his eyes would eventually lose interest once the initial infatuation had died down. 

Then on his second day, or rather evening on his new job - Oliver witnessed the blonde, in the private of her own room, namelessly sponsor a six figure cheque towards a substance abuse non-profit… and he didn’t know what to think when he found her some hours later - slouched beside two empty, and rather large bottles of red and an opened pack of Camel as she stared vacantly through the locked French doors of the patio into the dawn of morning.

Oliver quickly realized that Felicity drank… _a lot_. But always in the privacy of her hotel room, silently, and always alone. Like the act was almost shameful, instead of something this lifestyle has glorified. And the more time Oliver spent observing his client, the more she etched a dent in his presumptions towards her. Felicity continued to contradict each and every one of his expectations - unsuspectingly drawing him towards her even more, without uttering a single word in explanation, without even knowing. 

Determined to put her appearance aside, Oliver couldn’t pin point exactly what made him gravitate towards her, while wanting to pull away from her all at the same time… just something about her… seemed, _more_.

Felicity was courteous to him…and to everyone else on her team, but... there were no words really, to describe the depth of her indifference. She never smirked at him, but she also never smiled either - and that was something Oliver wasn’t used to. Having worked as a bodyguard for the past decade, Oliver expected his clients to either ignore him or to half flirt with him, and Felicity did neither.

From time to time, Oliver would hear soft sniffles between their walls. It always ended with a loud crash that would send Oliver running to her room, only for the perfectly poised blonde to politely inform him that her lamp accidentally fell. Their eyes would meet, blue on blue, his silently challenging for the truth, while hers held tightly with resistance. He told Dig about it afterwards, but his colleague was right- no harm was seemingly done to her, and so after a moment, Oliver would firmly nod once at her and leave.

_Every time._

Oliver was recruited as the head of the touring security for Felicity when she began headlining her third album around the world. Now onto the sixth month, the fifth country, and the third club after a two hour show, Oliver has never been happier to finally reach the end of his day. He honestly didn’t know how Felicity did it. He hasn’t kept up with her work prior to his employment, but a quick search on Google told him that she had been continuously releasing new albums while recording on tour for the last five years. How that was even possible was another question Oliver didn't know the answer to, but he couldn’t help but to wonder if all the late night clubbing, heavy drinking, chain smoking, and resolute isolation were either truly her only methods of coping… or exit strategies.

Oliver knew the ins and outs of this industry, his clients after all have been mostly artists like Felicity - young, wild and completely consumed by the latent consequences of their fame. But Felicity confused him. While seemingly to have indulged in the lifestyle on paper, her everyday clothing and jewelry were recycled and looked obviously second-hand, and she had no known properties or even a car to call her own, having been solely dependent on her drivers. Maybe it was the glamour of her job, her colleagues - maybe it was everything around her, but at some point, he thought, even Felicity could no longer distinguish herself from any of it. But Felicity didn't look like someone who would be a puppet behind a famous smile, not when everyone around her could see how much work she puts into her music and her shows, but there was something off about her- she was almost... he didn’t know.  
  
Maybe he was trying too hard to reify a story that may not even be there in an attempt to figure her out, or to justify this... pull he felt towards her. But the hard truth was, after almost two decades in the spotlight, Felicity Smoak was a complete stranger to the world.

The one thing Oliver was well aware of was her intelligence. It wasn't something that she hid, but she very well didn't flaunt it either. He noticed it though, through the gripping lyrics in some of her songs, but especially through her drunken babbles when she'd spew on about the development of cryogenics in the matter of seconds, then onto explaining quantum computers the next.

Which is why it was unsettling to take in the state of his client now.

Felicity has been a little out of it during this tour. To be fair, her actions have always been unpredictable and baffling, but lately - they’ve been reckless. She’s been drinking out of the confines of her hotel, enough to pass out - and even purposefully ignoring some of his safety protocols, which she has never done before. And Oliver became more and more hesitant in wanting to know the answer to his underlying question, of whether this was her way of finally calling out for help, or just another ruined artist finally tipping off the edge.

 

_In the crowd alone_

_And every second passing reminds me I'm not home_

_Bright lights and city sounds are ringing like a drone_

_Unknown, unknown_

 

The music was way too loud, almost deafening - even for his well attuned ears as Oliver made a beeline towards the blonde in question. It was a private venue, and Felicity was swaying carelessly on top of the bar above a cheering crowd. Oliver almost allowed himself a moment to take in her presence, how her melodic tone instantly captures the attention of all ears in any room. But Oliver wasn’t everyone else, he, instead checked for the various entrance and exit points - hardening his gaze on the group of men leering at the sight of his client. He did not wondered about the number of hairstyle changes it would take for Felicity to completely erase herself, or how dark her sparkling pair of sapphires would have to dim for him to finally see what’s hidden behind them. The enigma that was Felicity Smoak is as perplexing as it was frustrating, but the faint chanting of her name nearby by the same group of men quickly reminded Oliver of why he was here in the first place.

Felicity was lying on top of the bar when Oliver came towards her, after disbanding the audience. Oliver sighed lowly when he met her glassy eyes, which were seeing right through him. Felicity threw a sweet laugh at his attempt to take the glass of green liquid from her trembling hands.

“Dan made this for me, I know what you’re thinking Oliver - it’s a boooold colour for a drink but…”

She never calls him Oliver, except for the few times he was with her at the hotel while she was deeply intoxicated. Seeing she has since moved onto babbling about the history of cocktails, Oliver decided to go at this gently.

“How about this, Felicity, I’ll keep the drink safe with me.  You have a show tomorrow remember? We want you at your best, and…”

His last words triggered something in that seemingly chaotic mind of hers, as Felicity instantly raised her implausibly clear eyes to meet his, no longer a trace of alcohol or grogginess in them. Her face completely sober, and her entire body alert as she interjected quietly, her composed tone practiced with a hint of sharpness. “I don’t need to be reminded of what my job is, Mr. Queen, and it is not in yours to do so. I’d like for you to never speak to me like that again.”

“I apologize Ms. Smoak," His head lowered. "The car is ready for you at the front gate… whenever you’re ready.”

Felicity gave a firm nod before Oliver hesitantly made his way to the front door. It was his job to keep her safe, but he decided to wait in the car like she’s asked anyway. Oliver knew there was little control in how Felicity lived her life, and if something as little as this, considered he had already checked the perimeters, allowed her to feel a sense of control… it was all he could do for her.

It was much later in the night when Oliver was laying on top of his mattress, that he allowed himself to speculate what might have prompted Felicity’s abrupt retaliation at the party.   
  
Having checked up on her before retreating to his quarters, Oliver couldn’t help but to marvel quietly at her sleeping form. She was an unfathomably small thing with impossible curves, wrapped up in nothing but a thin navy sheet. With her face clear of makeup (and the _make up)_ , and her honeycomb locks spread across the pillow like sun beams, the enchanting sight brought back that no-longer-foreign feeling again to Oliver’s chest, and stomach - and… everywhere.

He left quickly after that.

* * *

  

“Felicity, we’re ready for you. Mic up in five.”

The ‘Vertigo Tour’ has been the biggest one she’s ever done. After four months of ceaseless musical arrangements, choreography, and LED screen reviews, the months’ worth of prep work swiftly paid off as Felicity’s premiere show in Star City became the talk of every radio station, social media site and news platform, and after the first month, it was easily on its way of becoming one of the highest grossing concert tours of the decade.

The light in her room was soft. One of her personal assistants, Sara, took the time to make the dressing room more comfortable, placing in some of her favourite Vanilla peppermint scented candles, along with other tapestries and decorations she didn’t care very much for, but was nevertheless appreciative of the gesture. Felicity’s never cared to implement any hospitality riders, on the technical side, however, she was especially adamant. Aside from basic provisions, Felicity was well known in the industry for her exacting technical riders for venues, from the brand of piano she wanted on stage, the specific sound and lighting systems, to the use of backline equipment.  A dire perfectionist at heart, Felicity knew and prided herself as one of the most meticulously hardworking artist to have graced the business in a long time.

 

_Oh, glazed eyes, empty hearts_

_Buying happy from shopping carts_

_Nothing but time to kill_

 

Checking her trademark red lips once more, Felicity made her way towards the crew, giving a quick glance to the six feet shadow slightly behind her.

“Good luck tonight, Ms. Smoak.” Oliver offered politely, as he walked Felicity to the trap room after the crew finished mic’ing her.

“Thank you, Mr. Queen.”

Things have been… strained between the pair since their minor clash at the party last week. If he thought Felicity was detached before, he would not know how to describe her reaction to his presence now. She’s remained courteous and professional as per usual, but there was a certain air between them that he wanted to clear up.

“I… I would like to apologize, for last week. I didn’t mean to…” Oliver paused, searching for the right words. “I shouldn’t have said what I said.”

Felicity nodded once, her oceans gentle, and Oliver thought if he’d look close enough, there might have been a little smile there… but he was too afraid to prove himself wrong.

Felicity could hear the loud chanting of her name as she rose from underneath the platform. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. The nervousness of it all still gets to her sometimes. Surprisingly her mind wasn't talking and in the attempt to find calmness, her mind briefly flashed to a certain bodyguard’s face.  
  
His dimples. It was the second feature she noticed about him when they first met - after being considered, from head to toe, by his mirroring blue eyes. He didn’t do it often - smiling, given his job. But whenever he was witnessing one of her drunken antics, she would find his usual stoic expression exchanged for the widest grin on his unfairly chiseled face, one to which her mouth muscles would've felt the need to return - but would never end up doing.

Felicity quickly shook herself away from the image, wondering how and why her brain would've even stored that kind of information. Putting on the best face she could, Felicity stood tall as the crowd cheered madly at her entrance.

 

_Sipping life from bottles_

_Tight skin, bodyguards_

_Gucci down the boulevard_

_Cocaine, dollar bills_

_And..._

The concert itself had been a grand production, and Felicity could feel herself being drained out halfway through the show. But the audience clung to it, and the critics have deemed her performances so far in this tour as one of her most memorable and creative. Besides, the choreography, the songs, the lighting, the placements… they were all muscle memory to her now. She just needed to forget afterwards… everything always become less than what they are when her blood volume was replaced with something bitter. 

“Thank you for taking the time, and your hard earned money to come out here tonight.” Felicity began, slightly panting after a demanding dance routine. “I hope you got what you came here for, whether that’s a few hours of escapism, for your first concert, or just to see me - I’m going to end tonight with an acoustic if you guys don’t mind… I think I’ve done enough cardio for today.”

The ending notes of her song was soon drown out by the uproar of screams and applause from the crowd, and Felicity spent the rest of the night convincing herself to not mind it. 

 

_My happy little pill_

_Take me away_

_Dry my eyes_

_Bring colour to my skies_

 

She was on her third bottle of red when her muscles finally started to relax, her head emptied of all thoughts except for the steady base of dub-step playing in the background of… Kevin’s? Carter’s? Carter’s living room. Tommy was saying something to her but she could only see lips moving. Her head spinning, she stumbled in an implausibly graceful way towards the nearby sofa. This is where she thrived. She was comfortable here in this state of inebriation. The media’s has had a hard time labeling her as everything about Felicity has controverted itself. Her wildness shouldn't have paired well with her quiet elegance, nor her seemingly lack of emotions should with her often poignant lyrics. It didn’t sit well with the media, and it certainly hadn't sat well with her management - not after... not after what had happened.

Felicity felt his presence the moment he stepped into the room, involuntarily shutting off the dazing effects of alcohol that were currently flowing through her veins. Felicity sighed in slight annoyance before turning to face the devil in question. Oliver's mouth ticked in slight amusement before clearing his throat, in the attempt to keep his expression neutral. Having realized her once lack of brain to mouth filter had stricken once again, she seemed to have been doing that a lot in his presence... Felicity closed her eyes as her inner mind cringed before taking another sip out of the bottle.

“I would sew my shut if I could you know." 

Oliver took in her words much quicker than he did with her appearance. Instant regret painted his face when his eyes returned from darkening at her open chest. It danced along the lines of disappointment and wariness from the slight variation of her default neutral expression. Taking a pause to clear his throat once more, Oliver questioned cautiously. “... Is this your third?” 

“Mhmm…”

He nodded in understanding before swiftly taking the half empty bottle from her hands, in exchanged for a confused glare from Felicity.

“You told me before, to stop you after three.” Oliver explained smoothly.

“ _After_ , Mr. Queen.” Felicity countered, snatching the bottle back and swiftly downed the rest in a single chug. Without warning, the petite blonde tossed the empty bottle carelessly in his general direction before walking towards his side, her approach reminding Oliver of the way a hunter stalks its prey.

" _That's_ three." She whispered lowly, making the six feet pack of muscles stiffen as her red lips grazed the sensitive lobe of his right ear. And before he could snap out of his apparent trance to face her, Felicity offered a hollow wink, and smoothly continued on her path towards the town car parked in front of the entrance.

 

_My sweet little pill_

_Tame my hunger_

_Light within_

_Numb my skin_


	2. Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Control: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=43SOcmH0NvY

 

(Flashback, F, 5 & 12)

 

“Eyes on me, Felicity. Shoulders back, hips forward.”

At twenty three years old, Donna Smoak was never happier to have a five year old daughter to support, than the day Felicity was discovered by the local modelling agency on their way out of the town’s mall.  

Jumping at the idea immediately, Donna nippily quit her waitressing job at the casino, and declared herself as Felicity’s full time manager, having enrolled her daughter into modelling classes, along with ballet and etiquette soon after signing with the agency. At a forgiving ten percent commission rate, hundreds of dollars spent on headshots, and commutes to casting calls and interviews- Donna eventually came home almost regularly with the month’s rent for their rough one bedroom apartment, and an always exhausted Felicity in hand.

 

_They send me away to find them a fortune_

_A chest filled with diamonds and gold_

_The house was awake_

_With shadows and monsters_

_The hallways they echoed and groaned_

 

Her long blonde hair and big blue eyes weren’t an uncommon sight in the industry. However, after the first few casting calls, the agency called back and gushed to the anxious mother about how the client companies fell in love with Felicity’s ‘energy’ on set, praising the young blonde’s natural chemistry with the camera, while being amongst strangers, flashing lights, and following up with detailed instructions. It was certainly hard to achieve at a young age of six, but Felicity was a smart girl. Donna’s voluntary unemployment, along with the multiple thousand dollar classes that she’s insisted on paying for, instead of the electricity bill- were certainly enough incentive for the young blonde to make sure she got as many jobs locked in as possible.

It wasn’t long before Felicity’s professional maturity and nailed-down ‘girl-next-door’ look began to garner the attention of the public, then, of the industry. 

Being the face of some of the most prestigious high fashion brands took a gradual toll on twelve-year-old Felicity Smoak. Since her modelling career took up a notch after posing for Prada, Donna decided to move them to New York City. Felicity’s young life consisted daily of morning ballet, seven hours of freshman classes at her local high school, followed by various casting calls, an hours-long evening shoot, then being shipped off to midnight fittings across the state… all before having a light dinner that seemed to get smaller in portions as each day drags on.

 

_I sat alone, in bed 'til the morning_

_I'm crying, "They're coming for me."_

_And I tried to hold these secrets inside me_

_My mind's like a deadly disease_

 

Finishing her last stretch, Felicity was happily dismissed from the studio. Having changed out of her dance clothes, Felicity sat on the steps, awaiting for her mom to pick her up, eager to go home and relax on her rare occasion of a night sans shoots or fittings, or any model work. She was on her second last chapter of ‘Introduction to Algorithms’ when she realized the sun had set. Sighing, Felicity put her book away and made her way home on foot alone.

Donna was on the phone when Felicity shut the front door of their single room apartment. Noticing her presence, Donna quickly said her goodbye to whoever was on the end of the line and motioned for Felicity to come over.

“Guess what Katie just told me- Oh gosh, I can’t even keep it in for one more second… you got it Felicity! You got Vogue! _Vogue_ honey, someone there saw your black tie photos for Prada, and they want you on their spring collection! Do you know what this means, Felicity? I can…”

Donna’s animated voice drowned out as Felicity took in her words. Vogue was a big deal, it was what all the girls in her classes talk about. Felicity already began to dread the upcoming month, knowing Donna will go completely overboard with her already hectic schedule. She didn’t mind modelling, not really. It paid the rent, her computer books, and for Donna’s booze. The down side of this job was… a lot of things, but mostly Donna herself, as she often pulled Felicity away from school to do emergency fittings and random call backs. Felicity’s protests of being taken away from her academics were unsurprisingly dismissed by Donna. Felicity loved school, it was the one place where she thrived happily, where the teachers encouraged her speedy rambles and individual engagement, and even with Donna’s overbooking and overworking, Felicity managed to spend the seconds of free time in between doing homework and reading whatever her favourite teacher, Ms. Park, gave to her that week. It was this little joy in her life that this Vogue job was probably going to take away from her.

“-That’s great mom. So anyways, uh, Ms. Park would like to speak to you tomorrow after school.”

Donna tilted her head, “Ms. Park? Why, I thought I told you to tell that woman that I don’t have to come in every time you ace a test or win some award.”

“It’s not that, um, actually, Ms. Park wanted to speak to you… about me accelerating a bit in my classes next year.”

“Like what, taking another one of those AP classes?”

“More like skipping a grade actually. They evaluated me a few days ago, and thought that the tenth grade curriculum would suit me better.”

“I don’t have to be there for that do I? Look Felicity, as long as it doesn’t affect your modelling schedule. The minute it does, you’re going straight back to…”

“Whatever grade a twelve year old should be in?”

“Don’t get lippy with me, Felicity.” Donna scolded, handing her a pile of catalogs. “These were their last few spring collections, better look them over… and Felicity?”

She took the pile off her mother’s hands, and looked up to meet her much lighter blue orbs.

“It’s not just posing for the catalog- it’s runway, Felicity, _runway_. This is a big deal, so at least try and look excited about this, okay?”

* * *

   

It was another full day shoot. Oliver drove a quiet and barefaced Felicity to the downtown studio at the break of dawn. He watched with intrigue as Felicity walked to greet the assistants and interns, before the photographer and the art director. With barely an introduction, she was swiftly sent to makeup, then to the clothing coordinator, and two hours later, the made up blonde was led out to meet with the director for approval. After taking a few shots, she was sent back to make up. The process repeated for six more hours. It was like watching a cattle, an undeniably stunning one, being led around a ceaseless maze, denying it slaughter.

The effects were all out for her last glamour shot. The interns released the bubbles while setting the feather fans on low as Felicity moved gracefully without question, even with the demanding tone from the director’s meticulous instructions, ‘head three degrees to the left’, ‘right shoulder tilt forward to the side, no, less, more, more’. Oliver didn’t know how Felicity could manage to stay silent and poised throughout the entire shoot... it was like second nature to her. When the interns came back with Big Belly takeout, the crew took their lunch break, and Felicity accepted her offered water and packaged rice cake without a blink of an eye.

 

_I paced around for hours on empty_

_I jumped at the slightest of sounds_

_And I couldn't stand the person inside me_

_I turned all the mirrors around_

  

“Which mag is this again? Remember to mark this one down.” Oliver heard Felicity ask casually.

“You _liked_ this one?” Sara raised an eyebrow in surprise.

Felicity shrugged lightly before adding, “They fed me.”

Her remark made Oliver think about the kind of stuff they allow her to eat during these shoots... or everyday, which were, as he thought of it - next to nothing. Making a note to stock up her hotel kitchen with things that could be referred to as food, Oliver can't help but to question if Felicity's ever felt full - or fulfillment.

“Here you go, Ms. Smoak.”  Oliver shifted his gaze to the intern who just came in.

“Thank you, Dana.” Felicity offered an appreciative look, almost resembling a gentle smile that he often imagined, ~~if she ever did smile~~. 

Taking the pack from the intern, Felicity dismissed herself to the outside patio. Oliver was about to turn to follow her when her hand landed on his abdomen, gently palming it over his suit, way too low for his comfort. 

“It’s just the patio Mr. Queen. I won’t jump out.” Felicity reassured in an almost teasing tone, but something in her voice made Oliver question the amount of truth in the latter part of her sentence.

The sun was hitting the golden cascades of her locks, her back was to him as she set her elbows on top of the patio fence. It was hard not to let his human eyes fall to the curve of her spine revealed by the crop top, or the roundness of her pert posterior that was barely contained by the navy pencil skirt. After all, Oliver was looking at the ‘Most Beautiful Girl in the World’... but the way Felicity's body slightly caved into herself when she sensed his presence, told him she felt like everything but that. 

The blonde in question turned around to find Oliver much closer that she expected. Craning her head up to meet his gaze, Felicity was about to open her witty mouth in protest, before Oliver silently offered a lighter as a form of compromise.

She took it deliberately in agreement.

Oliver stood a good feet beside her, and watched as she lit the stick and breathe the toxins in and out smoothly. Her eyes vacant, with no slight indication of other associative emotions, like pain, longing, or melancholy, that he often saw with other  ~~addicts~~ clients.

Again, like it was second nature.

* * *

  

(Flashback, F, 13)

 

Felicity wanted to get up and leave. But she was currently stood before a black backdrop, in thousands-dollar clothes, and frozen in a position that was straining almost every single one of her muscles.

The photographers and directors she’s worked with were generally professional, a bit condescending, and sometimes a little too complimentary, but Felicity understood, even at the young age of thirteen, that was the nature of the job. This director however, in particular, took the initiative to make her more uncomfortable than she already was. Constantly referring to her as ‘baby’ along with his instructions was apparently only the ice breaker to the rest of the evening.

 

_I'm well acquainted_

_With villains that live in my bed_

_They beg me to write them_

_So they'll never die when I'm dead_

 

“Tilt more to the left for me, no, no, keep the shoulders forward baby.”

“I want to see that collarbone of yours, here, let me pop that button.”

By the end of the shoot, Felicity’s lost count of how many times he, instead of the assistants, unnecessarily put his hands on her, and left them there for what was considered way too long to be even remotely professional.

“I don’t want to go back there tomorrow, mom.”

“He was just being friendly, Lissy – don’t be so dramatic.”

“You weren’t there, and he was watching me like… I felt uncomfortable.” Knowing Donna didn’t really care about that, Felicity decided to continue on with another point. “I don’t think I did my best work because of it, the agency might – “

“Oh you don’t have to worry about that Lissy, the photographer already emailed me some of tonight’s shots! Everyone could only gush about how well it went. Like I said, Felicity, you’re overreacting.”

“And you don’t think that was the doing of a questionable director?”

“Felicity, do you know how much we’re getting for this shoot? Enough to get twenty of those laptops you’ve been eyeing that’s for sure. It’s just one more day, so I need you to toughen up and accept the fact that not everyone’s out to get you, okay?”

Felicity's eyes held back the salt water that were daring to fall, as she bit her lips until it turned the harshest of red. 

"May I have dinner now." She grounded. 

"Eggs are on the table. You can have two."

* * *

 

(Flashback, F, 13)

 

The runway was different than any of the modelling work she’s done. Vogue’s fashion week was approaching in a few months, and Felicity, along with the other models had already begun preparing for it. At barely thirteen years old, Felicity Smoak wasn’t at all prepared for what she was about to experience at the deep end of the fashion industry.

It began when her agency had suggested phentermine, before alternating her diet and exercise. Felicity took enough health classes to know that everything she was already doing to her body was damaging enough to her long term health and development. So when her agent, Katie handed her a pack of cigs, Felicity fought adamantly against the notion.

_I'm bigger than my body_

_I'm colder than this home_

_I'm meaner than my demons_

_I'm bigger than these bones_

 

“People do all kinds of things before runway shoots, you know. These are long days and nights of hard work, and since you said no to phentermine, which is hard to get anyways… and I’m guessing you’re not too fond of eating cotton balls - this just makes it easier if you’re not hungry all the time.”

“… What about nicotine patches, they do the same for suppressing appetite- we can look into that.” Felicity offered, in hopes of winning on this matter of discussion that she’s always feared of having.

“And how do you think you’ll cover the bumpy patch on your neck, or your chest, when you’re spending the next entire month doing Vogue?” Donna countered.

“Felicity, Do you even know how rare this opportunity is?” Her agent continued on coolly, “I don’t have to remind you that you’re already _very_ below the height requirement for runway, even for teens. Now that you’re more developed, your body type is looking more curvier than their standard lankiness, so if you want to keep doing runway, we should be doing everything we can for you to stay at the top of your game. Do you understand?”

Felicity wanted to retort that even if she starved herself, it won’t change her height or her natural build, but she knew that wasn’t something her agent wanted to hear. Not when she was bringing in five figures for her regularly.

As a last resort, the young blonde looked to her mother, who swiftly shifted her gaze from her to the floor, the coloured tiles suddenly more interesting than the matter at hand. Felicity sighed internally. With no one standing up for her as usual, the thirteen-year-old took the pack of cigarettes off the table and stuffed it into her backpack before slamming the office door close as she walked out.

 

 

_And all the kids cried out,_

_" Please stop, you're scaring me."_

_I can't help this awful energy_

_Goddamn right, you should be scared of me_

_Who is in control?_

 

Katie was right. Fashion week was brutal. The fellow models, along with Felicity, worked twelve hours non-stop from morning in preparation, four more hours during the actual show, then were sent out to a gazillion client parties afterwards. This was where Felicity was reminded once again of the kind of industry she was in... and they were too true and too easily accessible to be even considered stereotypes. Sometimes people did what they had to get through the day, so if there were literally bags of coke on the table instead of lunch catering, Felicity didn’t say anything.

It was a ruthless trade, some of the girls she's met through this job relied strictly on cocaine and cotton to keep off the weight. And it was a lonely trade too - the only people who understood, and remained non-judgemental of the lifestyle were considered as competition.

“Vogue won’t be the end. I’ll make sure she stays on top of it, Katie. You know how Felicity is.”

“She’s too fiery for her own good, Donna. She'll learn soon enough that'll get her nowhere in this business - or in this life.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave your thoughts down below, I'd love to read them. x


	3. The A Team

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The worst things in life come free to us."
> 
> The A Team: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p856dtR4mms

 

(Flashback, F, 13)

 

The day Noah showed up at their front door, Felicity saw her mother for the very first time, as a mother. The voice in her head made the attempt to convince the blonde that Donna was just trying to cling onto her literal money maker, but part of Felicity defended her. There was a reason she was raised by only her mother, and the only logical one was that Noah had left them no choice.

Felicity pressed her ear against the cold door of her room, in the attempt to clear up the muffled sounds coming from the living room. And after a while, she heard the loud slam of the front door, and a light knock from the outside of her bedroom. Her mother appeared, her face hardened in a way she’s never seen before. However, her voice came out calm – almost like an adult’s.

“Felicity, go say hello to your father.”

 

_White lips, pale face_

_Breathing in snowflakes_

_Burnt lungs, sour taste_

 

“… Mr. Kuttler?” Felicity called out with hesitancy, as she saw the back of a man turn around at the sound. With dark blonde hair and familiar blue eyes, the man stood and smiled nervously at her.

“Call me Noah. And you must be Felicity. It’s very nice to finally meet you.”

Noah wasn’t all what Donna and her own mind made it out to be. He was a kind man, and he was candid and courteous in a way that Felicity was not used to. He spoke with her non-condescendingly, about the newest tablet model, her first developing software, and the reason for his disappearance, and Felicity couldn’t help but to have felt a connection with Noah in a way she wished she could with her mother.

 “Is Star City far away from New York, Noah?”

“It’s on the opposite side of the country. On the west coast in California.”

“Oh.”

“I want to thank you for meeting with me, Felicity-“

“… Can you take me with you? To Star City?”

Felicity blurted in her usual hasty speed, with desperately wide eyes that almost made Noah sigh.

At the soft plea from his estranged daughter, the man bent down once more so their matching pair of blues could meet.

“Your mother, the one who has full custody of you? I don’t think she’ll be too thrilled about that.” Noah explained to her squarely. “I told you Felicity, I did some things I wasn’t proud of, things I’m still trying to make up for. I’m not ready to be a father to you… I wasn’t ready then, and I’m still not ready now. Do you understand?”

Felicity’s head dropped as she nodded in acceptance. She couldn’t care less about the things Noah did, which was from before - he was better now, Felicity was sure of it. The little voice inside her head told her that maybe he was disappointed with what she turned out to be, and decided not to take her with him anymore. But as her mind began to fill with self-doubt, Noah tilted her chin up lightly to face him once more.

“You’re a smart girl Felicity. Don’t forget that. Above everything else, remember that you’re smart.” Noah pulled his daughter into a tight embrace, and Felicity clutched tightly at the back of his shirt, unwilling to let go, but eventually did, like with all things.

Noah pulled away, and offered her one last smile before turning on the engine of his bike. Felicity watched as her father rode out of the driveway, and into the main street, never once turning back.

 

_Light's gone, day's end_

_Struggling to pay rent_

_Long nights, strange men_

 

Back in her room, Felicity lit up another stick from an almost empty pack, and watched bleakly as the tiny ember of flame fade into nothing but smoke.

She began to wonder if abandonment was worse if someone remembered it.

* * *

   

(Flashback, F, 15)

 

Girls usually stop growing at fifteen. Felicity knew that. And yet everyday she’d go back to measure herself, hoping if she just stretched more, put more hours into ballet, and followed up with the pill regiment her agent put her on, she’d at least gain an extra inch.

Although her work for Vogue was beyond successful, there was no hiding the fact that the young blonde was not getting any taller.

“Not everyone’s born with the right traits for runway, and this doesn't mean you're not good enough of a model sweetie, it just means you don't have a very specific body type that it requires."

It was just the way it was, runway looked for tall and rectangular figures with bland features, and Felicity just didn’t fit the memo. Things like eye-catching features, or even human expressions, exuded personality and allure - which were distracting from the products that needed to be sold, and of course, the designers would never want that.

And while Felicity was fine doing commercials and the occasional glamour shoots, the pay was obviously very different than what Donna and the agency was happy with. And Donna was not having it. Seeing her mother plead with Katie for more higher paying work only made her feel more guilty than embarrassed.

 

_Ripped gloves, raincoat_

_Tried to swim and stay afloat_

_Dry house, wet clothes_

 

The money they got from high fashion week was burned within weeks, honestly Felicity didn’t know how Donna managed to use up five figures that quickly. She tried to dig up any receipts for new clothes, shoes, or extra booze, but nothing was out of the ordinary. Did the rent go up again? Where the hell was all the money going?

“You could always come and live with us at the apartment, Lis. It’s rent free and the fridge is always stocked.” Giovanna suggested.

Felicity befriended the tall brunette during the New York Fashion Week. Giovanna took an immediate liking towards the blonde, but then again, so did pretty much everyone else. Felicity was a girl’s girl, and being so young this profession they were in - it was always better to stick together, rather than to be apart.

Gio decided to stay in New York after Fashion Week, hoping to find more work in the city. Like most models, Gio took up staying at one of the model apartments owned by image promoters.

“How many nights would I have go to the club?”

“Ricky’s cool with three nights a week – “

“Three? When do you find the time to do shoots and fittings?”

 “You find a way Felicity, besides, if you really need the extra cash, he’s always happy to hook us up, you know.”

 

_Loose change, bank notes_

_Weary-eyed, dry throat_

_Call girl, no phone_

 

Felicity spent the next few nights thinking about it, as she watched Donna quickly slip back into old habits, and their bank account slowly decline back to square one. The booze costed money, and so did electricity, but Felicity wasn’t going to leave her dejected and alcoholic mother to fend for herself, while she moved to live with twelve other girls. Besides, Felicity was pretty sure the promoter would be more than willing to have her at the club, without having to offer a room at the apartment for her to stay in exchange.

Model apartments were how image promoters made money. In exchange for a place to stay, the models, who were often young, female, and broke, were to appear at the club for a few nights a week- and the more girls the promoter gets in, the more commission he gets from the owner.

… But the only way she was going to get paid actual money, and not just with free drinks, was if she let the promoter introduce her to some of the clients there, and all of the sudden, Felicity couldn't draw the fine line between herself and her mother anymore.

 

(End of Flashback)

* * *

  

There were books thrown everywhere. Her books. One aimed at her when she walked in. The sharp noise of wine glass shattering made her walk faster to the kitchen, where she found Donna being restrained by one Oliver Queen.

Sighing, Felicity put down her bag, and motioned to Oliver that it was okay.

“I don’t know how she made it in, but she immediately started to trash the place… Dig’s calling the authorities as we speak.”

“There’s no need for that, Mr. Queen.”

“Ms. Smoak…”

“You are excused, and please tell Mr. Diggle the same.”

Oliver stayed put and ignored her request, not loosening his hold on Donna.

“I’ll be safe, Oliver. I know this woman.” Felicity assured, in a softer tone. “...  _Trust me_.”

Oliver grounded his teeth in frustration, but nodded all the same, shutting the door behind him louder than he meant to.

“You’re drunk.” Felicity’s soft demeanor gone as she addressed her estranged mother.

“Here I thought my genius daughter couldn’t get any smarter.”

“What are you doing in Star City, mom.”

“Well let’s see, I was scrolling through my Instagram, and thanks to your fans’ geo tagging – I saw you were apparently staying in Star City… and the last time I checked, that was where that son of a bitch lived as well.”

“Mom – I…”

“Don’t tell me… did you fucking talk to him, Felicity?”

“… Actually, I met up with him today.”

Donna’s hand moved faster than a sober person’s, and flew straight across the young blonde’s face, leaving it red and scalding for Felicity's own hand to touch.

Shaking her head in what seemed like disgust, Donna stood up shakily, and started to pace across the living room.

“I can’t believe you, Felicity. He _left_ _you_ , he left _US_.”

“He wasn’t ready to be a father then, I know that was a poor excuse to leave, but he – “

Donna let out a bitter and drunken laugh. “Is that what the bastard told you? And he got you to _defend_ him? That what, he didn’t read enough parenting books or childproofed enough furniture to stay? You’re just as pathetic as me if you think that, Felicity. That asshole left because – “

“Because of what?”

For a moment, Donna’s eyes began to sober up, like she had said something she shouldn’t, but in the end, it looked like the alcohol and anger won over.

“… Didn’t you ever wonder why there was never enough money, no matter how much you made?” 

“You were… are an alcoholic. Not much to piece together there.”

“... I may not be the mother you wanted Felicity, but I stayed, and I tried. Your father? He’s a wanted man who not only _didn’t_ pay for child support, but had the fucking audacity to intimidate me for a couple grand each month… I kept it from you, Lissy, after all these years - hoping that I’d save you the heartache… but you turned out to be just as gullible as me when it comes to him.”

Felicity sat still on the couch, her body paralyzed as she took in the words from her mother’s intoxicated mouth. Shaking her head fervently, she picked up the nearby razor, and took comfort in cutting lines from a carton of white dust on the coffee table. 

“… Why did you give him the money?”

“You think the people he’s dealt with are nice people, Felicity? One threat saying that they might come for us was enough.  That’s why I put your name down as Smoak…”

“And he just _stopped_ asking for it? After I…”

“Do you think the rehab that you think you’re paying for would let me out across the coast with three bottles of vodka? Where do you think the quarter million goes to waste each month, Lis?”

Donna sat back down next to her daughter, her voice gentler, but firm. “People don’t change, Felicity.”

She made a point to look down at the neatly formed lines of fine powder on the coffee table, before she shifted her gaze back to her daughter’s. “Even if you want them to.”

_And they say she's in the Class A Team_

_Stuck in her daydream, been this way since eighteen_

Minutes after Donna left, Oliver stormed in to find the living room more chaotic than he left it. The glass shelf was now scattered pieces across the floor, and the small blonde was completely absorbed with rolling up a bank note on the powdered table.

He was about to take his leave quietly, to give her the undoubtedly much needed space when a slight shift of Felicity’s head gave away an angry patch of red on her left cheek.

The finger shaped mark rejected any other excuse Felicity was going to give him, and suddenly, the urge to go down and arrest the hell out of that trespasser was overpowering, but the need to make sure she was alright left him with no other choice. 

It took less than three long strides for him to reach Felicity’s side across the suite. Sitting down next to where she was on the couch, Oliver called out softly in the attempt to shake her out of the dazed trance that she seemed to be in.

“Felicity, Fe-li-ci-ty. Hey.”

His intense gaze hoping to be enough to lock her eyes to his, but stillness and the occasional shudders were all that she returned.

Having ran out of options, Oliver knelt down in front of the blonde.

“Felicity, hey, can you look at me?” Oliver repeated once more, his roughened hand reached out to cup her too-pale face, but froze halfway when Felicity retreated back abruptly on the couch, having finally sensed his presence… or his outstretched hands… or maybe it was simply the coke that had started to take its effect.

Trying to make himself as nonthreatening as possible, he turned out his palms to raise in quiet surrender, but the blonde only continued to make herself smaller with her own body, her baby blues were dilated and laced with… panic?

“Hey, hey, it’s just me, Felicity. It’s just me.” Oliver assured calmly, while slowly approaching her like he would to a wounded animal.

“Don’t… don’t – “She mumbled nonsensically. Her head shaking and her dazed eyes looking fanatically for a way out. Oliver wasn’t sure if she was really here with him, or somewhere else, but he had never seen his client like this. She was so… exposed. Then again, he’s never witnessed her during… was this how all her sessions went? Felicity, even in the wretched state, seem to have been aware of it too, as he saw her battling with her high in her conflicting orbs.

 

_But lately her face seems, slowly sinking_

_Wasting, crumbling like pastries_

_And they scream, the worst things in life come free to us_

Oliver stayed with her like that for another two hours. When he came back into the living room with a glass of water, he found Felicity still wrapped in a blanket, and was now knelt on the floor with a picked up book in her hands.

“I’ll call the cleaning service first thing tomorrow morning,” he stated quietly, lightly kicking away the pieces of glass from where she sat. “Here,” offering Felicity the mug. “Drink up.”

Felicity ignored his outstretched hand, and instead, looked up to meet his vibrant gaze. Oliver witnessed the moment that perplexing brain of hers made up her mind... it was when her eyes fell. 

“What do you want?” Her tone sober and laced with nothing but professionalism... as if they were negotiating a business deal.

That wasn’t what Oliver was expecting. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and his head tilted slightly in question.

“I'm sorry, what?”

“What do you want – from me?” Her placid tone unwavering.

“… Uh, you could drink this, and maybe let me take a look at your cheek, you may need s…”

“That’s – that’s not… I don’t understand, what do- What do you…” Felicity mumbled with a shaking head, her expression were now dressed with confusion and slight annoyance.

“I’m hired security, Felicity, remember? This is, sort of my job, I mean…”

“I don’t see anybody else on the team here. At three o’clock in the morning with me – trying to clean up a matter that he haven’t even asked about.”

The subtle, but accusatorial tone in her somnolent voice made it clear to Oliver of where she was coming from, and more importantly, what she was implying.

“I’m just trying to do my job, Felicity.” Oliver assured softly. “I'm not expecting - I don't want anything besides your cooperation for your safety. Do you understand?”

Felicity left her ardent gaze on his for a long time, ostensibly to be considering his words, or him... or both. Oliver hopes that she finds truth in them. However, when she blinked away a few moments later and stood up to face him once more, her expression contained none of the apathy, or dazedness he’s been accustomed to. Instead, her face was bared to him, for the very first time, with innumerable amounts of undefinable and irrefutable devastation that Oliver could not even begin to process.

The movement of her trembling lips brought him back as he heard the blonde utter softly, without judgement… like it was the only truth in this world.

“ _Everyone_ wants something.”

* * *

  

(Flashback, F, 16)

 

At sixteen, Felicity honestly didn’t know how her life turned out like this. Having tried to rest her tired feet at the open bar before she was quickly told sternly by the club owner to stand right back up, and to keep a flashy drink in her hands at all times.

That was her pay-less job for three nights a week. She’d walk around the club in six inch heels until closing, and smile for pictures. Sometimes she’d get linked up with some commercial work, or a business card for a shoot, but most of time, the young blonde was to tag along with high paying clients, and invited to go to more parties that took more of her time away from jobs she wasn’t getting.

“That Jay guy from last night? He’s back again – and he’s looking for you!” Giovanna whispered into her ear, with a kind of excitement in her voice that she hasn’t heard in a while.

“Jay, as in gambling-millionaire Jay?” Felicity queried with confusion.

“Uh huh, I think he took a liking to you from last weekend. You know, some of the girls would accompany him to the poker tables towards the end of the night, and they’d get handouts or have bets placed on his behalf… weren’t you looking to earn some extra cash?”

“Yeah, I want to earn some, what exactly am I doing to get that?”

“Just make sure he sees you, Felicity – oh there he is, go go go!”

 

_'Cause we're just under the upper hand_

_And go mad for a couple grams_

_And she don't want to go outside tonight_

 

The party went on as usual, but Giovanna was right. At the end of the night, Felicity, along with a group of girls were invited to a private poker room by Jay. Curiosity laced with desperation killed the cat, and Felicity went along.

Watching one of the players lose half a million on a single hand of cards without a flinch, was apparently _not_ the wildest thing she witnessed that night. By simply sitting next to Jay, Felicity had four months’ worth of rent in chips handed to her by the end of the game.

The promoter insisted that the girls went along to Jay’s party upstairs above the club for at least a few hours, promising a couple hundred bucks in return, and all Felicity could think about was cashing in those chips in the morning. This was four thousand dollars she was talking about, in just a few hours, so if Felicity felt the least bit weary or uncomfortable, she quickly swallowed down the thought.

_And in a pipe she flies to the motherland_

_Or sells love to another man_

_It's too cold outside, for angels to fly_

 

When she came out of the restroom, the girls had left, and by then, she knew the promoter had made a deal with the clients to get them laid. A few of the girls in the apartment were as young as fourteen... but this was the life Felicity was brought up in, and it was no secret that there were many ways to get to the top… or to get the bills paid.

Felicity's steps grew heavy as she headed back into the hotel room, weighted down by the dread that began to fill her hollow stomach. The feeling was shifted into short relief however, when Jay, instead, gave her the number to a photographer who was looking to do some glamour shoots. It was after he called her a cab, that he invited Felicity to accompany him to Cannes the following week, having deemed her as his new lucky charm.

Felicity smiled teasingly and told him that she’d think about it. The answer, she thought, seemed to have pleased the millionaire as he smirked wily at her reply, and stepped closer until the smell of whiskey diffused from his breath to the cold skin of her neck.

“I’m excited about you.” Jay whispered lowly in her ear as he leaned in, pointedly opening one of her palms to place what felt like at least four more poker chips into it, along with a small bag of white. 

Closing her hand with his own, the man placed a hard and lingering kiss between her knuckles - but it was his eyes that made his implications clear. This wasn't an invitation. It was a demand, a deal... an exchange. With another appraising look over her form, Jay escorted her downstairs.

Felicity spent the rest of the night scrubbing clean of her hand until she saw blood.

 

_An angel will die, covered in white_

_Closed eye and hoping for a better life_

_This time, we'll fade out tonight_

_Straight down the line_

 

Early in the morning, Felicity got a text message from Giovanna, saying that the cashier was finally allowing the chips to be traded in. Felicity hurried back to the casino and found herself stood amongst a long line of girls with day-after dresses and bad hangovers, but it was the conversations she heard that made her mouth drop. The models who she knew stayed the night were there cashing out six figures, _six figures_. It was another prime example of just how tempting it was for girls like her to spiral down this rabbit hole.

Felicity told herself she was only there for the potential work connections, but the heavy weight of her poker chips told her that she was no different.

 

(End of Flashback)

* * *

  

Oliver closed the back of the passenger door behind him, sitting himself next to his client.

He was feeling pretty apprehensive about today, as no one was bothered enough to tell him about the location they were headed to.

“Are you going to tell me where we are going?” Oliver couldn’t keep it in any longer, turning his head to face her bare one.

“I gave Mr. Diggle the address already.” Felicity answered almost inaudibly, and Oliver would've rolled his eyes at her trademark ambiguity, if it weren't for the quiet in her voice.

“… I would feel more at ease if I knew where we were headed. Is it a public outing or…”

“It’s the quietest place on earth, Mr. Queen. You have nothing to worry about.” Felicity’s dismissive tone shifting Oliver's demeanor, sensing what could almost be pain laced between her nonchalance. 

Felicity’s past and her personal life were another set of mysteries that the media and the public have been trying to unfold for ages, and all that Oliver knows is that whatever they are, nobody was willing to dig in to find out, to ask, or to help... not even the closest people around her, and she clearly had no intentions of revealing them.

The look of confusion on Oliver’s face only grew when the car pulled slowly into a large field, to which he slowly recognized as a cemetery. Oliver swiftly turned his head from the window to his client, only to find Felicity staring out hers, her hollow face too hard to read as usual. 

Oliver followed behind as the blonde walked through the grounds, and paused at what looked like a freshly dug gravestone. The year of death confirming his assumption. Wanting to give his client as much privacy as possible, Oliver backed away and stood to the side, but remained no further than three feet away from her.

He watched as Felicity pulled out a finished Rubik’s cube with unsteady hands, and placed it on top of the stone. She stayed there like that for a while, just standing with a hand placed against the carving. Oliver couldn’t tell if she was crying from this angle, and before he could get any closer to find out - Felicity swiftly turned around and headed towards the car, her head not turning once.

 

_Angels to fly, to fly, fly_

_For angels to fly, to fly, to fly_

 

“… Are you okay?” Oliver decided to speak up after sitting with her in complete silence for what seemed liked ages, was about half an hour.

The name Noah Kuttler didn’t ring a single bell in his head. However, the birth date carved onto the headstone was only a decade earlier than his. Could this Kuttler guy be old enough to be her…

“He left it for the paramedics,” The blonde uttered softly, effectively bringing him out of his thoughts.

Her naturally lethargic tone rang sharp of sullenness, and a whole lot of varying emotions he was sure he wouldn't be able to comprehend. Oliver was at a lost of what he could offer her as of now, and he knew he shouldn't be surprised when he turned to find himself greeted once again by the side of her silhouette. He honestly wasn't sure if she was even talking to him.

Though her stillness reminds him that of a similar one he'd witnessed just a few months ago, within a broken penthouse suite in Star City.

She spoke again after a long while, as if she had never stopped.

“… No one writes suicide letters to paramedics.”

 

Her voice was glass, and Oliver prayed to whatever god above that he would be enough to hold it without breaking.

 

_It's too cold outside, for angels to fly_

_For angels to die_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, love to know your thoughts. x


	4. Asleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asleep: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PQLILrRqXww

  

(Flashback, O, 22) 

The starless sky was casket-black and heavy, that even the clouds seemed morose. With the dusty breeze that keened and mewled through the empty fields, the constant base of the unswerving steps behind him became a beat of drum. 

They lost four today. And even in the murky wind of the Afghan desert, Oliver knew by the way his partner was walking - the sullenness that painted his face was still very much apparent. 

“John,” Oliver tried. “This wasn’t on you.”

“This is _my_ fire unit, Oliver.” He asserted, then in the attempt to hold his ground he added firmly. “And it’s Sergeant to you, Queen.”  

Oliver was reaching towards the end of his third tour, and his first as a Specialist (E-4). He had been waiting for this promotion since he enlisted at eighteen. It was true what they said, E-4 was the idlest rank in the entire military.

Specialists were soldiers who had done enough to move past the detail team, but not enough to show that they were competent leaders. Oliver thought it was ironic, considering he shared the same pay grade as Corporal, while only being one rank away from having to lead a basic fire unit like Dig.

Oliver liked that he only had to look out for himself on the field, and that he could delegate any other responsibilities to privates. However, that all changed when he was recruited to Dig’s unit. The young E-4 soon found that his unit leader wasn’t going to let him off easy. Diggle tested him, called him out, and pushed him to open up. He was the only one who knew of his reason for enlistment. The inevitability of their friendship wasn't surprising, there was no one else in the world he trusted more than his partner.

Which was why Oliver could not understand why John would lie to him now.

“I know today was not on me, but it’s not on you either… I’m sorry we lost them.” Oliver began, in the attempt to console the sergeant as he opened the door to Dig’s office. 

Dig looked up from his desk, nodding grimly. He silently motioned for the soldier to sit.

“I know, Oliver.” The sergeant responded, his voice was heavy and laced with… condolence.

Oliver watched inquisitively as John reached for a stack of paper on the corner of his desk with hesitancy, before handing it to him.

“But I am sorry about this.” Standing up to take the paper from John, Oliver's brow furrowed with confusion when he looked down at a leave of absence form already approved and signed.

“Lieutenant thought it’d be easier if it came from me,” John lowered his head dourly. “I am so sorry Oliver…”

The world stopped for him then. Or maybe it was just his body that began to stiffen to the point of paralysis as he remained stood in place. He could see John’s mouth moving and his eyes laced with concern, but his head shook fanatically in the attempt to prolong the incoming news.

His legs weakened but he wanted nothing else other than to get out of there. Both of his feet stumbled back on its own until his spine hit the wall.  And he prayed. For the second time in his twenty two years of life - to whom he wasn’t sure of, that the next words that were about to come out of his partner’s mouth, wasn’t what he feared he already knew.

Because there were only six words on this planet that would make the Lieutenant authorize an emergency leave.

“Oliver, “

The soldier mechanically looked up at the call of his name, despite his mind's protests. His frantic blue orbs were already painted with a familiar defeat and heartbreak. 

“… She didn’t make it this time.”

 

(End of Flashback)

* * *

   

(Flashback, F, 17)

It was six in the morning when Felicity was awaken by a voicemail from Katie to come in for a meeting. The young blonde had been stuck in bed recovering from the flu, so it’d be the first time she’s been outdoors in a week. Looking beside her, she found Donna’s bed still untouched from last night. Sighing, she left a note and locked the door behind her.

Grabbing a cup of coffee on the way to wake herself up, Felicity made it to the office to find the rest of Katie’s clients already there. The look on few of the girls’ faces were coloured with absolute woe, leaving her with a state of incertitude.

“Thank God you’re here Lissy. We thought you…”

“That’s enough, Linda. Take a seat please, Felicity.” Katie interjected squarely as she walked in, closing the glass door quietly behind her.

“I know some of you were there last night, but I wanted you all together so I only have to say this once.” Katie began, her emotions too hard to read. Or none were there at all to begin with.

The woman seemed to have offered the blonde a glance of what almost looked like sympathy, before she turned away to continue. “Most of you knew Giovanna, and as some of you've already found out - that as of last night, she is no longer with us."

Looking to Felicity, Katie spoke on evenly. “I’ve contacted her aunt back in Toronto and she’s not coming to collect her... And Rickie wants her stuff at the apartment gone by tonight."

"Why tonight?" One of the girls from the apartment queried, her tone sharp. She recognized the model, Talia. She's... was Gio's bunkmate. 

"He’s bringing someone new in.”

_Sing me to sleep_

_Sing me to sleep_

_I'm tired and I_

_I want to go to bed_

Giovanna was kind. Felicity's always admired how her emerald eyes would twinkle when she showed the girls pictures of her baby daughter, that she's left back home. She got into the game just as early as Felicity, but unlike the blonde, Gio had less fight in her when it came to drawing lines for herself. Two years her senior and now lifeless, Felicity still looked up to the nineteen-year-old.

They didn’t bother with a funeral. With the things they were doing to themselves, Gio’s kidneys and liver were already in horrible shape, but what finally got her in the end was a heart attack. Under the suspicion of other diseases, none of her organs were of use even if she was a donor. She heard words like “what a waste” as she walked out of the morgue before they sent Giovanna to be disposed, and only then did Felicity understand just how _disposable_ they really were.

Felicity was left to pack up the stuff at Rickie’s apartment, and under ten minutes with a single green trash bag, the crowded space was devoid of any traces of her former friend. The sound of the front door opening brought her attention to a waifish brunette. With terribly familiar vertigo eyes, Felicity watched passively as the young model walked in with a dance in her step, followed by Rickie holding a small carry-on, welcoming her to the apartment.

She let herself weep that night, sniffing an extra line in honour of her friend. Knowing what killed the brunette would someday take her too. Her death wasn’t unexpected. The unspoken truth was that it happened so often in the industry, that people have come to accept it as an irrevocability.

It could’ve been her. It could’ve so easily been her. And although Felicity wasn't one for foolish poetics, she mused about how long it would take until she reached the inevitable. Until she’d feel herself become nothing but herself, would it finally bring her peace?

 

(End of Flashback)

* * *

   

“Did you know, who Kuttler was?”

For the first time as Felicity’s bodyguard, Oliver was finally let on to a piece of her puzzle. However, her silence was messing with his head, and he couldn’t do anything about it.

“No idea, I just drive her around Oliver. Because that’s my job. Remember yours?”

The remark prompted an irritated glare to his partner. Oliver was good at his job, he understood boundaries, and his professionalism could be attested by everyone who has worked with him. But it’s quite literally in Oliver’s job description to ensure Felicity’s safety, so isn’t it in his right to question what kind of relations a recently dead guy had with his client?

It's been only two days since that fateful afternoon where Felicity- sober or not, decided to let him in on something that had not been seen by a lot of people; herself. A part of it at least, and he would refuse the idea that he was grasping at straws here… but nothing much has changed since then.

An unrealistically hopeful part of him thought maybe she’d open up to him after they returned, or maybe after a good night sleep. However, after their visit to the cemetery, Felicity spent half the weekend staring at the plane window to Los Angeles, and the rest in the solitude of her hotel suite. Oliver didn’t know what it meant when he no longer heard the “accidental lamp crashes” during the night anymore, and her utter stillness only increased his degree of apprehension.

Felicity’s been known to have… unpredictable behaviours. If this Kuttler guy was who he thought he was, Oliver had to plan for the worst case scenario.

John heaved a sigh. “... I know what you’re doing, Oliver. But she’s not T-“

“Don’t.” Oliver warned lowly.

“I don’t know what you think you can do, but…”

“I think he’s her father, Dig.” Oliver interjected, ignoring John’s previous quip.

“Kuttler?”

Oliver nodded, “The birthday is a little young, but, it makes sense.”

“Want me to look into him?”

“There’s a reason why she’s kept him, that trespasser from before, and whoever else in the dark.”

“… Why don’t you ask her?”

The question made Oliver turn in confusion. “What makes you think she’ll tell me anything?”

“Because," Diggle explained, like it was the most obvious answer in the world. "You’d be the only one who’s ever asked.”

_Sing me to sleep_

_Sing me to sleep_

_And then leave me alone_

_Don't try to wake me in the morning_

_'Cause I will be gone_

“Are you sure these are dark circles and not bruises? Because these are the darkest eye bags I’ve ever seen.”

“The jetlag hit me hard this time, you know how coast to coast flying is.” Felicity dismissed smoothly, her line perfectly delivered without hesitation.

An hour later, Felicity was escorted out the dressing room in a bright and sleeveless skater dress, and sparkling blue eyes sans the purple shades of too many nights spent high and awaken to match. The two lines she did half an hour ago gave her the elation she needed to pull off this carpet walk, at least for an hour. Which reminded her…

“Can you phone Matt and tell him when I’m free tonight?” Felicity requested casually to one of her assistants, Sara. The platinum blonde was looking almost as tired as she was feeling.

Felicity made a mental note in her hazed head to talk with management about giving Sara a few days off after LA. Discreetly sifting through her calendar app to confirm her suspicions, Mr. Lance’s birthday was indeed next weekend. Opening a new tab on her phone, Felicity made swift arrangements for a first-class flight to Star City under her assistant's name, making sure there was a pit stop in Gotham. She overheard Sara talk about her lawyer sister who lived there once.  

Sara slowed her pace and turned to face the blonde as Felicity tucked her phone back into her clutch. Making their way towards the main carpet venue now side and side, Sara opened her mouth to say something before deciding on not to. Then with a brief smile, she nodded. “Yeah, of course. I'll call him right now.”

_Don't feel bad for me_

_I want you to know_

_Deep in the cell of my heart_

_I will feel so glad to go_

 

Oliver stood with John across the nearest entry point, keeping careful watch as Felicity smoothly made her way across the carpet. He marveled at how she idly allows herself be relentlessly pulled aside for the same obtrusive questions, and pose with the same kind of almost-smiles that don’t even bother to try to reach her eyes, which he now realized were utterly dilated with frenzy. 

Right. _That’s_ how.

“You look absolutely stunning today Felicity!” The blonde looked around for the host of the sound as she was negligibly pushed towards another interviewer.

“Thank you.” Felicity spelt out on autopilot.

“And just where do we get this delightful dress of yours?”

“A beautiful boutique in London called Virgo Lounge - they’ll be happy to hear it.”

“I see you’ve taken a pit stop from your international tour for the festival, where are you headed next?”

“Central Europe, starting with London actually.”

It wasn’t long before a nearby group of press noticed Felicity stopping to talk, before they all pushed in and shoved their microphones towards her. All of them blaring her name in hopes of getting her attention.

 “You usually avoid carpet interviews Felicity, is it because you don’t want to answer questions about your personal life?”

“My schedule is not my making so – “

“Anyone special in your life right now Felicity? Must be hard when you’re always on tour.”

“No, no.”

“How did you react when Hal Jordan named you as his celebrity crush during his recent interview?”

“Uh well I didn’t know – “

“Is it true that you’re already married to someone outside the industry? Is he camera shy? That would explain why you haven’t been photographed with anyone since your singing career started.”

“No, that would be a false rumo–“

“You mention rope ties a lot in your music, is it safe to say you participate or support the BDSM lifestyle?”

“Uh, the rope is actually a metaphor for – “

“So you condemn those who are in BDSM relationships?”

“No, I was simply explaining the – “

“You’ve been on the road non-stop for five years now - hitting the top charts with every album I might add. But a girl needs a breather am I right? Tell me, do you plan on stopping anytime soon?” Another interviewer chimed in.

“… God I hope so.” She responded, almost forgetting to laugh off her own remark afterwards.

Felicity could feel a slight glisten on her forehead as her intake of breath become harsher and shallower with each turn of questions.

“Felicity! Over here.” “Smile for me right here Felicity!” “Is it true that…” “Sources say you and Hal have been dat…” “How do you feel about…”

This is why she avoids the media in the first place, _oh her management is going to have fun with this one_ , she thought.

The lack of oxygen getting inside her body began to take its toll on her as her doped head becomes lighter, and her sight slowly deters into tunnel vision.

And then a rough hand made sudden contact with her small one.

Felicity’s entire body stiffened, her frenetic eyes wide as her hands become fists at its side. Even with her body’s protests of wanting it palmed over her heart instead so she could rip off this dress, which felt more like a boa snake wrapping itself around her ribcage right now. But she couldn’t move her fingers... or her hands, as her entire upper body become numb. The man’s hand was no longer there but her feet was still paralyzed as her mind continued to shout at her to run. She had to run.

It was happening all over again.

Within five seconds, Oliver caught on to the signs of distress his client was displaying. After notifying the rest of the security team via Bluetooth, Oliver walked swiftly towards the blonde, who was looking like she was going to combust in any minute. Oliver tried to lock his eyes with hers when they were in reaching distance, but she was looking frenziedly around the carpet venue, seemingly looking for an escape route while trying to block out the deafening sounds of her name being called out by the press. 

Eventually her wild blue orbs met his, and Oliver took that opportunity to present her both his hands before reaching slowly for her trembling ones to steady them. Felicity recoiled manically at his touch, backing away as she fell shoddily into some of the people on the carpet, making him swear internally at his own stupidity. In the midst of all the chaos, Felicity somehow realized her legs could move again, and so she did the one thing she knew best.

She ran.

* * *

 

(Flashback, F, 17)

The day after what she had deemed the incident, Felicity tried to get up for a shoot, but her trembling legs kept triggering flashbacks of what had happened the night before. _His_  blood-curdling voice still playing on loop in her pounding head and _his_ touch still lingering in the form of hand prints on her thigh.

It took six hours before Felicity finally forced her body to stop shaking and her mind to stop thinking, and move out of the mattress that laid on the floor. She could at least make herself useful and go down to lend a hand in the soup kitchen tonight.

After taking off the Band-Aid, she knew she shouldn’t have looked in the mirror. Even in the dimly lit bathroom, the full length mirror had no problem reflecting the fresh cigarette burns on her protruding ribcage. The three pea sized circles were painted volcano red and sneering at her, she couldn’t look away. The constant throbbing pain and swelling gave away that it was most likely second degree, and would scar an ugly grey like the doctor had said.

_ I thought I saw pain in your eyes - pain that could be beautiful, but there is only fear here isn't there? _

Felicity had to stop her fingers from clawing at the broken skin there. She literally couldn’t afford to scathe her body any more, but then again, her modelling career was already over the moment she slapped his hand away.

_ What a waste of pretty skin you are.  _

There was no way Felicity could cover the wounds with concealer, there wasn’t even proper skin there for the makeup to adhere to. Felicity shut her eyes as she felt her lungs begin to fail again. This was the second time, and she tried to remember what the nurse said when she miraculously found her way to the nearest clinic in the middle of nowhere the evening before - barefoot and battered.

_“The easiest way is to picture a person you trust - someone who believes in you and cares about you. Now imagine them with you. Panic attacks often reflect the fear of your ability to cope on your own. By remembering or experiencing their presence can relieve those feelings of abandonment. So picture someone you trust taking you by the hand, and just **breathe**.”_

 

_Don't feel bad for me_

_I want you to know_

_Deep in the cell of my heart_

_I really want to go_

 

Curling herself into the corner of the bathtub, the ocean built up in the seventeen-year-old spilled like tidal waves onto her beat face, while her fists made targets of the bathroom tiles. Her white lips opened as she screamed in ample silence while gasping for whatever air she could intake.

Felicity couldn’t picture anyone.

 

(End of Flashback)

* * *

__

“We found her Oliver, she’s back in the penthouse. She’s okay.”

After the shift change, Oliver swiftly made his way to the penthouse suite when he passed by Matt, who offered a nod of acknowledgement on his way to the elevator.

“Didn’t you drop off last week?” Oliver asked, hoping his tone came off casual. 

Matt looked around before giving a smug reply. “Guess my stuff’s too good for portion control, you know?”

If the kid stumbled backwards after seeing the scowl on Oliver’s face, he’d never admit it. “Or yeah. I guess she’s been upping the doses. I don’t, I don’t know man - I don’t ask questions.” The young man shrugged and sighed with relief when the elevator door slid open.

Oliver could tell, even by the pounds of concealer that was covering her under eyes that she hasn’t slept since their visit to the cemetery… or eaten, which was saying a lot because she didn’t eat much to begin with. Her face was slowly crumbling to a point where coke and makeup could no longer hide, and he wonders why everyone else seem to turn the other eye. She’s having panic attacks at public outings for God’s sake.

Sighing, Oliver placed the takeout into the fridge, and proceeded to throw out the ones he ordered for her yesterday which remained untouched, as usual. He then opened up the freezer to pull out the carton of mint chip he got Sara to buy this afternoon.

Felicity told him once drunkenly, that on the rare occasion ‘when she earned it’, her mom would allow her a small cup of mint chip ice cream. And she would wait until all of it melted because drinking it made it last longer. Grabbing a bowl, he scooped a large serving inside and left it on the counter with a spoon before making his way to his room.

 

_Sing me to sleep  
_

_Sing me to sleep  
_

_I don't want to wake up  
_

_On my own anymore  
_

 

It was her fifth line in two hours. Her tolerance has built up over the last six years, and it’s taking more and more to satiate the same amounts of dopamine she craved. She wasn’t sure if her brain was even supplying any of it on its own at this point, but she counted herself lucky as there isn’t a hole in her septum yet.

Felicity managed to empty out a whole week’s supply in a weekend, and she thanked Google that Matt was available to drop off more. The thing about coke was that the high was too short. But it provided her the stimuli in the way she could only feel with love she never got, and food she wasn’t allowed to eat.

But coke makes the anxiety worse, however walking helped to burn off the extra adrenaline before her nervous system was calmed down enough for her specks of snowflakes to enter. They kept her going, her one sole companion. It just couldn’t be there for her when she couldn’t breathe.

Felicity wasn’t afraid to admit what is clearly a codependent relationship, but it’s the realest one she has. It was honest and transparent. They both went in knowing exactly what they wanted from each other; a moment of fulfillment, and her life. Although... she would always forget who wanted what.

 

_Sing to me_

_Sing to me_

_I don't want to wake up_

_On my own anymore_

 

They made their way to the kitchen at the same time, each from the opposite corners of the penthouse. There was a dance in her uneven steps and his gaze found itself travelling up her bare legs - from the hem of her silk robe that ended mid-thigh, to her trembling hands that were fumbling with something rectangular. His face flashed a hint of amusement when it finally met hers, with her brows crinkled and her mouth formed into a familiar pout at what now looked like a lighter in her palms.

“Felicity, you alright?”

“Oooh yay hands!”

“... What?”

“You have good hands, not like I look at your hands at all I mean, I mean I do but it’s as much as anybody else does without a hand fetish of course because they probably look at hands more often than that of the regular amount. I just mean they’re useful to – “

“ _Breathe_ , Felicity.”

Her doe eyes widened as she nodded fervently, taking comical breaths as she remained standing in front of him.

“Woah that was a ride! I haven’t felt like this since Matt brought the speedball last month. Remember how long that lasted? Actually I don’t even remember…”

The thought quickly replaced the stoic frown of his back in place. This wasn’t Felicity. Not really. Just what he thought she could've been if… It was wrong of him to want that kind of hysterical bliss to illuminate her face, if the source of it all was slowly taking parts of her away to eventually make a grave of her own.

“Give me your hand please?” Felicity asked, still fumbling with the stubborn lighter.

Oliver’s hand extended automatically, unable to refuse his client.

“Yay! Okay, I just need you to light these for me…” The blonde bounced excitedly and handed him the lighter.

Pocketing the lighter, Oliver prompted casually in the hopes to distract her. “Didn't you want some water?”

After a moment of confusion, she decided to nod agreeably. “I did? Right! My heroooooooo – “ Felicity squealed with delight as she danced into the kitchen, her sweet laughter echoing throughout the entire suite.

Oliver followed behind when the laughter cut abruptly. Quickening his steps, he stepped into the kitchen to find the blonde frozen in front of the bowl of melted ice cream.

“What is this.” He heard her question discerningly, her euphoria gone.

“…Thought you might want to eat something, since you haven’t touch the takeout.”

“I wasn’t hungry.”

“Yeah, I could tell.” Oliver retorted. “Since you know, haven’t touched _any_ of the takeout. So unless you have a secret IV that pumps sandwiches into your body…”

He watched as Felicity turned around, her face completely livid, and it made him want to instantly take back his comment – but before Oliver had the chance to open his mouth, Felicity threw the bowl of goo as it shattered across the living room, ubiquitously splattering the green liquid all over the floor.

“Once again – NOT in your work description, Oliver. YOU'RE STEPPING OVER THE LINE. AGAIN – "

_“ Some of the psychological symptoms to watch out for include aggression and volatile mood swings. Hallucinations and paranoia are also common, Mr. Queen.”_

Unable to contain himself any longer, he threw himself into the fire. “Why did you hire me then? Why did you hire any of us to protect you if there’d be nothing left ALIVE to protect?!”

“ _I_ didn’t hire you to protect me, Oliver. I hired you so you’d have a JOB. So all of you could – my _management_ hired you to protect me so _they_ can have a job. They _do_ their jobs and don’t ask questions. It’s easy money. But you, YOU don’t seem to get that, or _want_ that. So I’ll ask again. What do you _want_ from me, Oliver Queen?”

It was a loaded question. Oliver didn’t know why he couldn’t just do his job like everyone else. And it wasn’t like the rest of the team were oblivious as to what went on behind Felicity’s closed doors. They weren’t bad people either, they just, seem to let it happen.

“I just want… I want you to eat something. Can you do that?”

“Why?”

“Because you’re going to die of malnutrition if you don’t Felicity – “

“That doesn’t answer my question –“

“Can you for one second, counter in the fact that maybe I’d _care_?”

Felicity easily let out a sour laugh at that. “For the love of… I’m NOT her, I’M NOT THEA.”

_Silence._

“… What did you say?” Oliver croaked, his entire body stiffened at the name.

Felicity retorted after a pointed pause. Her voice quieter now, but still laced with the same bitterness. “You’d be as naïve as I think, if you believe I’d hire you - or anyone, without finding out who you were before.”

_Silence._

This was not how he saw this conversation going. That name... hasn’t been spoken out loud since he himself was twenty two, an entire decade ago. 

“She left you with a hero complex… I get it. But I’m _not_ her.”

Oliver looked up at that, his wounded eyes glassy from the thoughts the name had brought up, while hers were half dazed and laced with defensiveness.

His fingers twitched sporadically at his side, she really knew where to hit where it hurts. Oliver knew it was the dice talking, how extreme the mood swings could be, especially with someone like her who had been abusing it for so long.

Felicity’s shoulder sank in fatigue. Her voice was much softer now, she sounded almost sober. “I’m not looking for anyone to save me, Oliver. This is the world I live in and I'm aware of exactly how it ends. I’ve accepted it… so should you.”

 

_There is another world_

_There is a better world_

_Well, there must be_

_Well, there must be_

 

Oliver watched as something along the lines of anguish poured through those blue orbs of hers, knowing how devastating it was for Felicity to hear that sort of defeat come out of her own lips. Her lips, which was now trickling with blood… but they weren’t coming from her mouth.

“Felicity, your nose, it’s…” Grabbing the box of Kleenex nearby, he stepped closer to the blonde and handed it to her.

“… Has this happen before?” He asked quietly, as he watched her dab her left nostril gently with practice.

“Of course it has. It’s a side effect.”

“Of coke?” He asked rhetorically.

“Of dying.” She answered simply.

* * *

 

(Flashback, O, 22) 

“I know you don’t want to go back for a fourth tour Oliver. But you could still go back to school or, I've told you that Lyla's still looking to contract new details for some concert tour. What do you think, me and you partners again - this time in boring bodyguard suits."

“Mhmm.”

“Oliver, you know I’m here for you. Always. But it’s been six months since Th..." Diggle took a pause before letting himself finish that sentence." You’re a twenty-two year old with a fully grown Santa beard, you’ve been sleeping on my couch and lifting boxes of soda at a convenience store. You gotta let me in man.”

“... Diggle. I’m not looking for anyone to save me.”

“Maybe not, but you need someone just the same.”

 

_There is another world_

_There is a better world_

_Well, there must be_

_Well, there must be_

_Bye, bye_

(End of Flashback)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Oliver is 32 (F is 22)  
> (This is another sort of two parter, part 2 coming soon)


	5. Paradise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paradise: https://vimeo.com/35208320 (highly recommend the video)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shifting of dynamics, glimpse to the next journey of Felicity's past, & a game changing affair.

  

Felicity woke up to the sharp blare of a notification ring -  _72_ notifications to be exact. The date displayed on the blonde's lock screen shocked her senses awake like caffeine when she realized she had slept through yesterday. She recalled vaguely however, getting up a few times throughout the past two days. Her heart hammered with vigilance but her exhaustion always won out.  All Felicity remembered was how her slow breaths became shallower as sleep swept over her like a glove.

Sending a verbose text to Matt, Felicity rolled herself to the edge of the round king bed and forced her body up. All of her muscles stiff and aching after the long bed rest and crash, she found her way to the attached bathroom and let the steam of the scorching water work its way into her clammy skin.

She’s told Matt before to never mix her coke with downers. That was a road she had witnessed too much of, and never needed to go down on... not like this. It was worth noting that she’d slept through the worse the comedown, and her usual thrashing migraines have reduced to only being a faint nuisance in the back of her head.

As she stepped out of the tub to wrap herself back into the silk robe, pointed flashes of the last two nights found its way back into her faint mind slowly, then all at once. Felicity’s hands hastily flew up to feel around her nostrils. She remembered her nose still bleeding after… returning to her bedroom two nights ago, and even fuzzily at some point yesterday, but she found no evidence of that on her face, or the pillow. Shifting her gaze to the night table, her brows furrowed at the jug of water and Vaseline placed next to what looked like a brand new humidifier. The laundry bin filled with blood dotted cloths was tucked nicely away from sight.

Felicity's shoulders dropped in realization as she pieced together her surroundings, and soon enough, the details of what had happened two nights ago finally made itself known in Felicity’s hazed mind. Cuts of their conversation playing on loop inside her head, it wasn’t long until the words blurred into a single soundless clamour.

But what the blonde couldn't shake away was the look on his face when she left him alone to the chaos in the kitchen. Her body sank down to the carpeted floor, unsure if she could uncross this line.

 

_When she was just a girl_

_She expected the world_

_But it flew away from her reach so_

_She ran away in her sleep_

 

The bleep of the coffee machine pulled Oliver out of the stupor he’d enveloped himself in.

It was the second day now that Felicity hasn’t left her bedroom. The first morning after their… encounter, Oliver kept himself away in the privacy of his own room to give Felicity space. That was until he realized she never came out of hers either. The soft thump from her suite gave him enough reason, and worry, to go and make sure she was alright.

Oliver walked into a half conscious blonde stumbling her way to the bathroom, one hand rubbing at her nose and the other waving around for stability. For once, Felicity didn’t recoil at his touch. The voice in Oliver’s head told him it was probably because she was half asleep, but he was grateful nonetheless. Slowly guiding her back to the bed, Oliver laid the blonde gently down on the round mattress and nudged away her hand to examine the state of her nose. It wasn’t running anymore but it looked clogged and was stained dry with blood.

He came back minutes later with some warm cloth and Vaseline in the attempt to clean it up. He wanted to stay, or leave some food on her nightstand, but after their debacle last night – he knew better. Throwing away the trash, he brought back a jug of water and with one last hesitant look to her slumber form, he shut the door softly.

 

_And dreamed of_

_Para-para-paradise, Para-para-paradise, Para-para-paradise_

_Every time she closed her eyes_

 

Felicity made her way out to the kitchen slowly. It was ten in the morning, much later than when Oliver usually had breakfast, but the sound of the sink water proved her otherwise. Stepping into the view, the blonde watched quietly as Oliver closed the tap and loaded his plate onto the dish rack. Why he never resorted to food services, Felicity wouldn’t know. What she did know was that Oliver had sensed her presence, and chose not to be obvious about it - more for her benefit than his own.

“… This yours?” Felicity asked, her voice out of the blue, earning her a look of surprise from the man in front of her. His eyes slowly drifted from her piercing orbs, to the round device she was holding in both her slightly unsteady hands.

 “I… read on google that adding more moisture would help keep the nose from drying out, or trigger more bleeds so…” Oliver explained. His tone sheepish as evident by the hint of flush threatening to peer through his cheeks.

“… You went and bought a humidifier.” Felicity filled in the rest of his sentence, receiving a reticent shrug from the man.

There was a beat of silence before Oliver’s attention returned tentatively to the newspaper he was holding, and Felicity cautiously took a seat across from him with her book in hand, her fingers flipping to the bookmarked page. It reminded her of their earlier days, when they didn’t talk much aside from protocols. Before they poked holes in each other’s old wounds… before they crossed each other’s carefully drawn lines.

There was a certain sense of apprehension in the air they've surrounded themselves in. After stealing numerous glances at him from her line of sight and mutilating her bottom lips until it drew blood, Felicity took a deep breath.

“… I’m sorry.” Felicity mumbled softly, seemingly talking to the book she was holding in front of her. Oliver looked up from his newspaper at the sudden sound of her voice. He’s never heard it like that before, maybe only once - back at the cemetery, but if her voice was glass then…

It was easily the most striking and the most devastating three syllables his ears have ever witnessed. And this time, he knew it was meant for him to hear.

His brows furrowed into his rare state of confusion, which seemed to happen a lot around the blonde. He was about to open his mouth, when Felicity’s baby blues lifted up from the book unexpectedly to meet his matching ones. Although, hers was painted with something equally as sympathetic as her voice - and sober. Something he couldn’t describe fully but to call it _truly_ _Felicity._

 “I … For bringing up your sister the other night. It was uncalled for.”

Trying to remember what she had said, Oliver shook himself quickly out of whatever trance he was caught up in again. "Don't." His tone genuine. “You were… inebriated. It wasn't on you - "

“It was. I may be a lot of things, but I – “ Her drained blue orbs began to flood with waves of repentance and – he couldn’t catch the rest before her eyes shifted back down to the book, her head slightly shaking - unthinkingly.

“Hey. It wasn’t your fault." Oliver assured her. His voice gentle but firm. "You were crashing and you were angry… and I shouldn't have pushed you the way I did knowing that.” 

Felicity's head only continued to shake like before, and Oliver wasn't sure if she's heard anything he's said. 

“I just… needed you to understand that I'm not… I wasn't  _taken_ by this lifestyle like Th - like with some.”

_Silence._

“It was my job to,” Felicity continued after the pregnant pause. “I was aware enough to have never been blinded by the glamour of it…” Her bright blues shifted away from his before finishing the sentence. “… Just too driven by the money and the work it brought me.”

Felicity couldn’t stop her mouth from opening up, or this need to purge this part of herself to him – all to stop that permanent look of guilt... or pity, or whatever that it was on his face.

She needed him to understand… she needed him to forgive her. She needed _someone_ to forgive her.

“I made the choices that I did so we – there were sacrifices I had to make or...  _thought_ I had to.” He witnessed as glimmers of bleakness crawled back to make shadows of her gaze once more, the blue in them clear as water now as her voice grew fainter. “… It was never for the sake of cheap thrills,” Her sigh was laced with bitterness. “I was just trying to do the right thing.”

There was a lot that Oliver wanted to ask and needed to say, but he wasn’t about to interrupt what was the longest, and the most honest conversation they’ve ever had. The pool of chaos in her eyes told him that Felicity needed this, and Oliver wanted everything but to push for anything she wasn't ready for, so he continued to offer her an attentive expression, hoping his supportive silence wouldn’t be taken wrongly.

“But I saw the look on your face when I brought up her na…” Felicity bit her bottom lip to stop herself. Shaking her head, Felicity’s haunting gaze met with his once more.  “I shouldn’t have… it was never in my intention to hurt you.”

“I know.” Oliver reassured softly, making the blond look down once more.

“… I’m sorry.” 

The woman sitting in front of Oliver right now had been only a flicker, at most, for the last two years that he’s known her. Oliver couldn’t help but think that _this_ could be _Felicity_ … or what was left of it anyway.

Oliver wondered if she was aware that her jumble of words were intentionally ambiguous, or that her mouth had stopped itself at the parts he'd hope one day she would feel comfortable enough to reveal to him - or to _someone._ But he was surprised to even have had this conversation with her. Not because he thought Felicity was careless of other's feelings, but because Oliver thought the coke laced within wouldn’t have let her remembered anything at all. 

Before the blonde could make her way out of the kitchen and back to her bedroom, Oliver’s mouth opened expectantly. “It’s Thea’s birthday today.”

Felicity stiffened, her back still turned to him. “… Oh.”

“I… I always visit places we used to go together, when we were kids.” Oliver’s smile grew wistful as he recounted flashes of elapsed memories from what felt like almost a lifetime ago.

“It’s a way of me commemorating her, I guess.” His blue gaze found hers in the end as her body slowly turned to face his, now just a feet away from his chair.

“… Would you like to come with me today?” Oliver asked, hoping his voice sounded more casual, unlike the abundance of emotions he’s been carrying around for the past two days.

There was a long period of silence, an important one. Oliver waited patiently for the blonde frozen in front of him to decide, and hoped that he wasn’t pushing the line again. Their cobalt stares never shifting from each other’s, and Oliver could see hers searching cautiously in them – for what he didn’t know, but he prayed that whatever it was, she’d somehow find it in him.

Felicity nodded.

* * *

 

(Flashback, F, 17)

 

The sound of the door unlocking shot a worn out blonde awake. Felicity returned from the soup kitchen earlier in the night to find Donna’s bed still untouched. The young blonde had been pushing a much needed conversation with her since the night of the incident, but Felicity knew that sooner rather than later, her mother would notice the decline in their bank account.

After the incident, Felicity allowed herself a weekend for her brain to run her emotions through its course. Since then, it was on overdrive to figure out what her next move was. Felicity knew she couldn’t go back to Katie for help, or any of the connections she’s made around _him_.

With the end of her modelling career, the seventeen year old was at a loss of what she had to do to keep up with her mother’s expensive tastes, while keeping a roof over their heads. Frankly, nothing came to mind when she came to terms of who she really was without it; a barely high school dropout with an alcoholic mother, while swimming in a few addictions of her own that she no longer needs.

Linda, one of Katie’s fellow model client suggested that Felicity use her name to get a meeting with a producer. Along with some models, Linda’s true passion was music, and thought that getting into the modelling game would be an easier transition. Most of them never made it out, but Linda was still hopeful that she’d hear back about her demos someday. Which was half true, in that it was Felicity who’d heard back from L.A. via email this morning. It started off with just some poems she'd wrote for her freshman English class, in which with Linda's help, were then turned into a couple of songs that she thought held enough potential. The producer seemed to enjoyed it. Or more likely, enjoyed how she looked. Either way, at 10:46 on a Wednesday morning, Felicity was presented with the rarest of opportunities; a chance to get out.

The smell of whiskey came her way before her cocktail dress cladded mother did. Donna’s steps were uneven at best as she made her way to the seat in front of her, where a glass of water already sat. This wasn’t Felicity’s first rodeo, and they both know it won’t be the last.

“Hey, drink up. I need to talk to you about something.” Felicity stated, her voice quiet. 

“If you’re trying again with one of those intervention things, you’re going to need a lot more people in the room – and maybe get _yourself_ sobered up first - ” Donna mumbled, her voice almost incoherent. 

“I'm heading to L.A. in the morning. I was given a single one way trip... and I don’t know how long I’ll be gone for.”

“Oh... well, who’d you snatch up?”

“A record label.”

“… I’m sorry, what?”

“I sent some demo to an acclaimed producer in LA. He liked it enough to meet with me.”

“Did I miss something here? When did you do this, did you leave the agency? ...  _When the hell_ did you quit modelling?”

Felicity only pulled up her shirt in response, exposing her recently marked ribcage for the first time.

“Felicity…wha-“ Donna gasped, her voice laced with aversion and… disappointment?

“This is the best chance we have right now." Felicity explained, tugging her tank top back down. "It’s a long shot, but I promise I’ll get the rent paid here. I’ve already sold all the brand clothes I’ve received. It put enough in the bank, but I’m begging you to take it easy for a while. Okay?”

The air between them was tense, and Donna was silent - seemingly processing what her daughter had just said. Felicity was being purposely vague about the details of her decision, what she was trying to pull here. Without the modelling money coming in, what was she going to tell Noah…

“… Felicity, I don’t know why you’re doing this," Donna questioned, her voice decidedly sober. "Why you did that to your body or, whatever you did. I just... I don’t want you to be ruining something that most people never get.” 

The next exhale of Felicity's was let out bitterly. She knew she shouldn’t have been even remotely staggered by her mother’s responses by now. “I’m just trying to do the right thing, mom. I’m sorry if that – “

Donna’s arm flew across Felicity’s face faster than she could finish the sentence.

“You listen to me good Lissy, I don’t know how much coke’s gotten into your head, but I do know that you’re NOT going to quit your career to pursue a useless dream across the coast alone. Do I need to remind you that you’re still 17?”

Felicity let out a humourless chuckle at that remark. “When did you ever consider my age when it came to getting us money - ”

The next slap she took expectantly and without contempt.

Felicity stood up afterwards so Donna's head had to tilt up to look at her. “This is not... this is not me trying to become some global fucking sensation,” Felicity snapped brokenly, her emotions getting the better of her. “This is me taking the only opportunity I was presented to keep this roof over our heads.”

Taking a deep breath, Felicity reminded herself to lock away her wasted anger and continued defeatedly. “I finished the laundry and bought enough stuff in the frozen to last for the next few weeks... I’ll call you when I land.”

Picking up her duffel bag from the dusty floor, Felicity made her way towards the front door before turning her head around slightly. “Remember to finish the water.” She prompted, and a little quieter as an afterthought. “… I love you.”

 

_When she was just a girl_

_She expected the world_

_But it flew away from her reach_

_And the bullets catch in her teeth_

 

The plane ride was an uninviting one. Alone in her seat, Felicity was left to her thoughts for the very first time, and when she boarded off the plane 6 hours later, she could attest that there was no experience more petrifying.

The music industry wasn’t that far off from the hell she grew up in, but she’d like to think it’d be more transparent, that maybe she wouldn’t have to show enough of her ribcage to get a cheque for her mother. 

The humid heat greeted her in solitude as she circled around the streets of Los Angeles after her meeting with the infamous producer. He wasn’t anything she couldn’t deal with. Felicity's perfected gift of pretend was put into practice when his eyes lingered too long in the recording booth, and kept her smile shy when he sat too close for her liking. He didn’t act on it - yet, but it was enough to get her a meeting with the suits.

The talk in the conference room escalated quickly and Felicity's never felt so young. After one of them pointed out that she was a former high end model, the blonde's subtle suggestion of just purchasing some of her songs were simply brushed off.

It all felt disconcertingly familiar. The people in suits holding out contracts already naming their innumerable conditions and expectations, and their predacious eyes laced with what Felicity could now see through as nothing but simple curiosity and ill motive.

She knew deep down that selling the rights to her songs would’ve only been a short term fix to her current financial situation anyway, but there was something uneasy about the air in that meeting room, and Felicity couldn’t help but wonder if she had just freed herself from a monster, only to give herself away to another.

 

(End of Flashback)

* * *

 

After nearly half an hour of circling around the lot for a parking space, overwhelmed was a solid description of how Felicity felt when they finally made their way to the entrance.  The shrieks of children and the commotion of crowds and vendors quickly gave away the fact that this was not her usual scene. Felicity could feel a sensory overload arising when she felt gravity pulling her towards the ground, only to be stopped by two warm hands banded around her torso, which hastily left as soon as her feet found itself again.

“Are you alright?" Oliver questioned, his tone immediately concerned. "There’s too much noise isn’t there. I shouldn't have...” 

“It’s just a power cord Oliver,” Felicity reassured smoothly. Her voice even softer than typical. “It’s fine. I’m… just not used to being… _out_.” The blonde finished as her reserved gaze gradually turn into an inquisitive one, as she took in each and every vendor tent, food truck, and amusement ride with reverence.

“So. Where would you like to go first?” Oliver turned to face her after not hearing a response. Her gaping blue orbs still in wonderment of her surroundings. 

“Felicity?” Oliver tried again softly, his drawn-out hand almost grazing the sleeves of her sweater before it stopped itself.

“… Huh?”

“Anything that caught your eye?”

“I don’t… I don’t know.”

“Well, I’ve always been partial to the bumper cars.”

“Bumper what?” Felicity enquired, before she followed Oliver’s pointed gaze to the nearby tent, filled with children screaming in electric cars.

“I should probably tell you that I’ve never driven before.” Felicity continued, the slight trepidation apparent in her voice.

“So haven’t 90% of the people in this lineup.” Oliver deadpanned, only for Felicity to return to biting the bottom of her nude lips. He tried again. “If you want, we can share one. But I really do think you’d beat these 8 year olds just fine.”

As they neared the start of the line, Oliver could touch the anxiety she was giving out, but it wasn’t like the kind she exerted back at the carpet interviews – because this one was laced equally with anticipation.

“I think we’re in the next round – do you have eyes on the car you want?”

“Um… the red one there?”

“Was that a question?”

“… No?” Felicity let out, almost amusedly.

Oliver turned back to face the queue before offering a small, but gentle smile. “That was Thea’s favourite too.”

 

_Life goes on, it gets so heavy_

_The wheel breaks the butterfly_

_Every tear a waterfall_

 

“Do you want to go on that next?”

“Mhmm… What?”

“The carousel. You’ve been eyeing it for a while.”

“Oh. No… it’s just, mesmerizing - that’s all.

_I know the feeling._

“We do have one more ticket.”

“You’re not going on?”

“Who’s going to take pictures of you spinning off if I do?” Oliver joked, only to garner an uneasy look on her pastel face. It was subtle, but Oliver was beginning to understand where to look.

“I was joking Felicity, It's – “

“ - I’ve never been on one before.” The blonde confessed abruptly.

“On a carousel?”

“Yeah, or the bumpy… bumper cars." Her voice grew fainter. "... Or to a carnival.”

"Well," Oliver wished he could wash away the sea of turmoil swimming in her baby blues. But for now, he offered his most encouraging smile, and hoped that his casual shrug looked casual enough. "There’s a first time for everything.”

Tilting his head towards the carousel, Felicity followed reservedly, her steps unsteady behind his. There wasn’t a long queue, so Felicity was quickly let up to the ride. Her eyes kept glancing back to his, her expression unsure.

“Just choose an animal to sit on, Felicity. It goes slow, don’t worry.”

Felicity glanced around at her options, there was only five other people on, so most of the seats were empty. She walked past colourful giraffes, sparkling dolphins, and a couple of regal-like horses. A little isolated from the rest, her gaze landed on a greyish unicorn covered with tiny rainbows. The horn on its forehead was cracked, and Felicity wondered how many people have decided to turn away from it because of that.

She chose the unicorn.

 

The blonde was greeted at the exit with a smiling Oliver, having just tossed away his burger wrapper.

“Looks like you made it out alive, wasn’t all that scary was it.”

Felicity shook her head, but stopped quickly as her head continued to spin on its own.

“You alright?" Oliver swiftly frowned in concern. "You’re looking really pale.”

“I’m always pale.” Felicity retorted.

“You’re looking even  _paler_ than before, and you're... trembling.”

“I’m just still a little out of it from the carousel.” Felicity reassured, the dullness of her complexion seemingly lit up her sparkling blue orbs even more. They were staring back at him with such a rare spark of warmth that made Oliver nod along thoughtlessly.

For the rest of the afternoon, Oliver suggested that they take it easy and walked around the pier instead. The hours flew by in minutes as Felicity’s curious orbs gladly went to follow wherever his finger pointed to, and Oliver once again had the pleasure of witnessing the unfiltered commotion that was buried deep in the back of Felicity’s mind. The part that blurted out a million questions under a single breath, and the source of her rare innuendos, which he’d always file away when she attempts to poorly backtrack on something she had said.  

As they circled back towards the exit, something (again) caught Felicity’s eye that made her pause unapologetically in the middle of the side walk.

“Do we need tickets to play those?” Felicity queried after quietly staring at the flashing neon game booth.

Oliver grinned at what she was referring to. “Nope. Just a stack of dollar coins.”

“Why?”

“It's borderline gambling, c’mon – I’ll show you.”

Felicity's blue gaze was contemplative as she observed the game. Her speculative expression almost made Oliver let out a chuckle of amusement, instead, he idly stood beside her as she mentally cataloged every facet of the balloon pop.

“The game is fixed.” Felicity stated squarely, after what seemed like a million hours of quiet.

“What’s that?”

“The darts, they’re too light to aim.” Felicity explained, pointing to one of the playing darts. “And those dull tips have been heated to make popping the balloons harder.”

“Huh. Can’t blame them for not wanting me to win though. I don’t want to brag, but I could do this blindfolded - sharp tip or dull.” Oliver retorted. His smirk now on full display on his rugged face.

With the amusement apparent on her reserved face, Felicity shifted her gaze back to the game. “Then it wouldn't hurt to know that if you don’t focus on the different colours, the balloons have only been inflated to no more than 30 percent - they would be more likely to bounce the darts off than to be popped.”

“... You sure _you_ didn’t rig the game?” Oliver questioned, with a brow raised in toyed suspicion.

“It’s just perception.” Felicity easily dismissed, waving her hand flippantly.

“You’re very perceptive.” Oliver pointed out, before her penetrating blues reached his.

Their gaze held intently as Felicity’s head tilt to the side. “So are you.”

 

_In the night the stormy night she'll close her eyes_

_In the night the stormy night away she'd fly_

 

“I’ll admit my defeat. Looks like even the laws of physics won’t stop you from getting your money’s worth.” Felicity added impressively as Oliver popped the last balloon.

"I told you. I wasn't bragging." Oliver deadpanned, before stepping away to return the dart basket to the vendor. Lowering her head, Felicity quickly checked her phone for any missed calls from management. _92 voice mails._

Her mind jumped at the sudden call of her name, just as she ran out of expletives to let out inside her head. 

“For you.” Oliver motioned towards his outstretched hand, which held onto a stuffed bear wearing a superman t-shirt.

“… What’s that?”

“Our prize.” Oliver explained. “We do get more than just gloating privileges for winning.”

“But I didn’t do anything.” Felicity countered, her stance suddenly more guarded. 

“Well... you proved me right? Or wrong... It’s a bear, Felicity - not gold plated bricks, I think I can afford it.” Oliver joked, but it did nothing to take away her wary expression. Dread filled his stomach instantly, fearing he had just pushed another button he wasn’t aware of.

There was so much about Felicity that Oliver didn't know. From her interests to her dislikes... the love songs she no longer listens to, the name of the woman who ripped her favourite novel, and the dead bastard who's had enough hold on her to draw tears from the stirring hollowness that were her eyes.

Remembering their talk from this morning, Oliver decided to take to the opportunity to clear the air between them. He may not know all the lines Felicity's drawn yet, but he does know the one line he's crossed. 

“I know you’re not Thea... and if I... ever gave you that impression, I'm very sorry." Oliver acknowledged. "You do remind me of her sometimes... but I’m also not blind enough to paint every similarity with a single brush.” His voice was soft as his eyes shifted back to meet hers. “... I wanted to thank you for coming with me today, Felicity. Remembering her has always been a more… melancholy experience but, today felt more celebratory – the way I wished it to be.”

There was a period of stillness between them, Oliver kept his gaze intent on hers as Felicity’s swam searching in them once more, before nodding slowly and distancing hers away.

“... Sorry,” Felicity mumbled, her voice almost inaudible with her head slightly lowered. 

“You don’t have to apologize to me.”

“I ju… I’ve never gotten anything like this before.”

“You’ve... never been gifted freely exchanged carnival toys?”

“No, the handouts I get tend to... cost.” Felicity shrugged reservedly. By her expression, Oliver could tell that he’s put her mind once again in a place he was not welcomed into yet.

“Well this one doesn’t, if you would still like it.” Oliver assured, offering the stuffed bear once more. His hand patient. 

Felicity viewed the world like an old soul who saw death not as a point on a map, but rather like a glowing exit sign in a dark theater - where the show had just never been quite as bad enough for her to stand up on her own to leave.

But there she was. Her wide baby blues laced with caution - but also with so much wonder as her unsteady arms slowly reached towards his outstretched hand.

“Thanks.” Felicity whispered, her voice almost inaudible. 

She looked so young like this, her expression like of a child’s. And Oliver felt equally as enamoured and as chagrined at the thought of what could have possibly kept her from the simple joy of receiving something as meek as a stuffed animal, and who could’ve inured the automatic hesitancy in her to accept it.

“You never have to thank me, Felicity.”

 

 _And dreams of p_ _ara-para-paradise, p_ _ara-para-paradise, p_ _ara-para-paradise_

 _She'd dream of p_ _ara-para-paradise, p_ _ara-para-paradise, p_ _ara-para-paradise_

 

The tired blonde kept hold of the stuffed bear in the passenger seat, her willowy arms banded safely across its furry chest, and Oliver couldn’t help but to steal glances at her gentle features as she kept her half opened gaze towards the window. He’s seen her bare face multiple times, from accompanying her to photo shoots, to the rare mornings when they’d sit across each other in whichever hotel dining room. The hint of pink has slowly drained from her face since this morning, and from the looks of her weary eyes to her snowy lips, he could only imagine how worn out she must be.

But her guarded stance was relaxed for once, and her mouth had dipped into an expression that could almost be considered as a smile. There was a certain tranquility Felicity now possessed that Oliver couldn’t turn away from. Something peaceful and maybe even jubilant - that held enough potential to someday paint over the wearying void - and the look very much suited her. 

* * *

 

“Thank you, again. For coming with me today. It would've been weirder to roam around the carnival alone as a nearly middle aged man.” Oliver said as they walked out of the elevator into the penthouse.

He watched her bite down on her lower lip, almost drawing enough colour back to it before she nodded sincerely in reply. “Anytime.”

“Surprisingly no paps either. Or fans even, we got lucky.” Oliver added as an afterthought.

“They wouldn’t have recognized me.” Felicity spoke softly in response as she put away her purse on the living room hanger. Her steps becoming more uneven.

“I think you give too much credit to your beanie, Felicity.” Oliver joked.

“No.” Shaking her head cavalierly, Felicity let out a thoughtless chuckle.  “I’m just not what they see.”

 

_And so lying underneath those stormy skies_

_She'd say, "oh, I know the sun must set to rise"_

_This could be para-para-paradise_

_Para-para-paradise_

 

Oliver left Felicity with a cup of chamomile after helping the blonde back to her bedroom. Her migraine had resumed with full force on their way back, and while Felicity blamed it on the amount of amusement rides she was contentedly introduced to, Oliver still felt a small pang of guilt for dragging her tired self out for an entire day.

Leaving Felicity to her shower, Oliver headed back to his own quarters for a quick workout.

After calling John for a daily briefing, Oliver took a long shower himself to rid the ton of sweat that he has collected. He didn’t bother fighting off the small smile that crept up his usually stoic expression, when his mind involuntarily conjured up the earlier events of today. He could imagine Thea teasing him right now if she was here. Usually, any recollection of her would only send him spiraling in remorse, but this time - the smile on Oliver's face only turned into one of nostalgia. 

_Time can heal anything, Oliver. But people can too._

 

 

Making his way to Felicity’s room, Oliver found himself taking a pit stop in the kitchen to make another cup of chamomile to bring with him – just in case she wanted another.

From her pastiness this morning, the blonde only looked more washed out as the day progressed. Felicity’s dismissed it as the result of too much sleep and the chilly weather, but her migraines have always been a nightmare to witness. Oliver had hoped she’d get it checked out for a while, but they were respecting boundaries. And he was only starting to learn how not to cross them.

“Felicity, it’s Oliver. Just checking if you need anything else before I pull back.”

_Silence._

Oliver’s brows furrowed at the quiet. Felicity wouldn’t crash this early – having just hibernated for two whole days. The door was unlocked as she’s always left it, and Oliver debated internally as to whether or not he should turn the knob.

They were finally on good terms, and even Oliver could acknowledge that this was a prime example of overstepping, but he would rather have her hate him safe and sound, than to fail at doing his only job. 

“Felicity, I’m coming in." Oliver called out again as he turned the handle into her bedroom. "I’m just going to leave the tea he – Felicity?”

His gaze instantly fell to the stuffed bear left on the carpet by the entrance, and if the scorching water did spill onto his feet when his trembling hands dropped the mug, Oliver didn't notice.

His petrified orbs was entirely fixed on the motionless blonde laid out on the floor in front of him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there.  
> 


	6. Without You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lana Del Rey - Without You: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Brrv3AYK4IY

   

“GIVE THAT DRESS A TWIRL!”

“I LOVE YOU FELICITY!”

“FELICITY LOOK OVER HERE!”

“YOU’RE LOOKING GORGEOUS TODAY!”

“TURN AROUND FOR ME BEAUTIFUL!”

Like an ever tightening baseball cap, the unapologetic bomb ticks continued to have made a home in her frail mind. With her thrashing head bowed down, Felicity took shelter behind the larger members of her crew in a poor attempt to avoid the blinding flashes - and the anticipating faces of the crowd that's only multiplied by the dozens since John pulled over to their last venue.

She felt him. She always feels him nearby, a delicate but poignant presence that seems to calm the restless beast from taking over her weary soul. And Felicity could see the warning signs begin to run around in her mind, while her body liberally took silent comfort of the fortification his presence provided - a feeling the 22 year old has never quite experienced before. It was petrifying, but Felicity was too afraid to be terrified.

 

_Everything I want I have:_

_Money, notoriety and rivieras._

 

“You need at least a couple of fan pictures, Felicity.” Sara reminded gently as she walked closely in a protective manner, subtly nudging the blonde towards the ear-piercing crowd, whose faces were masked by the covers of their phones and self-made posters. Burying a noiseless sigh, Felicity built up a mask of her own before pointedly approaching a group of jumping teenagers, keeping in mind of the flashing lights around her. Oliver’s shadow followed quietly.

“Hi! Hi Felicity – can we get a picture? Are you feeling better?” One of the brunettes asked.

“Sure, of course - thank you guys for coming out.” Felicity replied easily, turning to face the phone screen for a group selfie.

“Thank YOU!! And that dress is to die for.” One of the girls complimented.

Before Felicity could respond, the blonde of the group added. “Right? Man, I wish I could look like that after a night spent at the E.R.! I mean that’s what happened right?”

Felicity smiled politely in return, and motioned towards her own exit.  

“Does one group photo count as - a few -.” Felicity importuned dryly to Sara as they continued their way towards the entrance. Her tone rhetorical, earning a pointed but understanding look from her assistant.

“You’re losing colour again,” Sara's frown deepened, having noticed the hollowness seeping through the layers of makeup on Felicity's face. Angling her head to the side, Sara directed her voice into the Bluetooth. “Someone get Carrie and her kit inside the venue, Ms. Smoak needs a quick touch up.”

 

_I even think I found God,_

_In the flash bulbs of the pretty cameras._

_Pretty cameras, pretty cameras._

_Am I glamorous? Tell me am I glamorous?_

 

Emerging from the powder room, Felicity was led to a full roundtable of press. Offering her shoulder a rare squeeze, Sara openly pushed two bottles of water and a granola bar on the table as the blonde sat down. Swallowing down whatever was choking her voice, Felicity gave her assistant a slight look of appreciation before straightening her spine towards the already lined up microphones.

“Firstly, a well-deserved congratulations on the three Grammy nominations, Felicity. How did you react when you found out the news?” A reporter in her late twenties from Entertainment took it upon herself to begin.

“Absolutely delighted,” Felicity responded smoothly. “I only learned about it this morning actually – very exciting for myself - and of course, for the number of talented individuals who’s worked on this album with me.”

“I’m guessing you found out so late because of what happened the night before?” Another interviewer called out, she couldn’t tell who he was with as he was recording on an iPhone. “It was reported that you were admitted to the E.R. around nine last evening. There were several stories going around until you were presumably discharged earlier today.”

“Reports have ranged from an overdose to a break in, can you confirm if any of them are true?” Another bolder journalist from the Hollywood Reporter interjected.

“What happened to you last night, Felicity?”

* * *

  

Each sound and nerve end gave into the dull sirens supporting the distance as senses become only a faint memory that fell too deep for him to recall.

The voices seem to be directing at him, but the stiff seat cushion that was responsible for the numbing of his lower body was the only sensation Oliver registered, until a slight shift of the bed across the room caught his cerulean gaze.

“Mhmm...” Felicity groaned softly.

“... It was _not_ protocol to alert emergency services tonight Mr. Queen. Our contract states clearly… Mr. Queen, are you even listening to –“

“Felicity?” Stepping away from the frowning woman and four strides later, Oliver was arching down to where his client was resting. “Hey, you awake?” Oliver prompted gently, his searching eyes waiting impatiently for a response.

The porcelain blonde surprised him once again by trying to lift up her own head – seemingly in search of his voice. Oliver reached out with hesitancy, selfishly needing to make contact with her. With one of his hands supporting the nape of her neck, he shifted the pillows to a higher angle so Felicity could lean against it.

Oliver couldn’t help but notice the paleness of her chapped lips, and the clamminess of her forehead. Not wanting to lose their physical connection, he shifted himself closer so both his hands could move to cup her face. In hopes of coaxing her warmth, Oliver began to rub delicate circles around her icy cheeks. His touch collecting shivers upon her veiny skin, but she only reflexively leaned further in, drawing her tired eyes closed.

He gently turned her face so he could meet her fluttering gaze. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

There was an extensive period of silence after that. Felicity seemed to be zoning in and out of consciousness. Her dazed orbs, when they were opened, were fixed on the group of talking suits behind him.

A blanket of guilt draped over him as he thought about how long he had allowed for this to happen. How did he let it get to this point, how could he have just watched Felicity as she led herself towards the deep end, and turn the other eye as she sank slowly down with weights tied to her own two feet. How could he have possibly fail another person that he –

“I didn’t – it wasn’t…” Felicity’s soft voice drawing him out of his spiraling thoughts.

“… Felicity?”

“I didn’t mean to… I swear,” she continued on with her muted rambles, her head shaking fervently and her voice bordering quiet hysteria. “I don’t know what … I, You have to _trust me_.”

Oliver stared into the desperateness of her muddled and tear-filled baby blues, and couldn’t help but to wonder why those two words always got him to comply with whatever she asked of him.

“I trust you.” He stated simply, quite literally against all of his better judgements.

Oliver would look back and be certain that it was him who was out of it, because the small blonde breathed in his response like an airbag, and slowly reached up one of her cold hands to cover his own on her cheek. Her head then fell to lean against it as her beguiling blue orbs met his with what looked like gratitude, laced with some sort of wonderment.

“Good.” She whispered, and Oliver could feel the weight behind the single word she carried with her ethereal voice.  

And then something incredible happened.

Felicity smiled.

 

_Summertime is nice and hot,_

_And my life is sweet like vanilla is._

 

“There were detectable levels of benzoylecgonine and other metabolites in her system. However, not enough for her to have overdosed. There is no cure for that. If she’s a chronic user, most tests will detect it even after weeks.” Dr. Snow informed gently. The flickering fluorescent bulb dancing above them in the secluded area of the private hallway.

“Felicity was barely conscious when we spoke but… Could she… could she be going through withdrawal?” Oliver asked, his mind berating his hopeful tone.

“If she is, it is independent from what brought her in tonight. Cocaine withdrawal often has no visible physical symptoms, such as nausea or vomiting associated with heroin or alcohol, but has rather intensive psychological effects.”

“So why – what…”

“Her blood test showed low amounts of glucose, it was most likely that she fainted from prolonged starvation and dehydration. If she had discontinued cocaine use, her appetite would’ve increased drastically - which she was probably not used to and chose to ignore...”

Oliver’s shoulder sank at that thought. He was with her the entire day, and yet his red blooded mind was too caught up with the spurts of light he saw in her eyes and their newfound dynamic, to realize that she didn’t have any of the food he bought them at the carnival, in addition to her previous day spent with her stomach churning at nothing in bed. Now looking back, her lips were whiter than usual and her steps gradually became more inconsistent as the day progressed. Why didn’t she say anything? Did she feel like this all the time? Could she even tell the difference?

“Excuse me, Hi. Amanda Waller.” The woman who was just questioning him earlier in the night stepped in front of him to face the doctor, her tone firm. “I’m Ms. Smoak’s manager and emergency contact. Here are the forms you asked for, Dr. Snow - all filled out… Do you mind if we talk in private?”

 

_Gold and silver line my heart,_

_But burned into my brain are these stolen images._

_Stolen images, baby, stolen images._

 

   

“Ms. Smoak, I’m glad to see colour in your cheeks. Do you feel alright enough to talk?”

Felicity sat up straighter on the reclining seat of Dr. Snow’s office and nodded.

“Mr. Queen has told me that he hasn’t seen you using for the last two days, can you confirm that?”

The question left Felicity at a loss until the unspoken words from Dr. Snow caught up with her. “Yes… I guess so. I mean, now that I think about it.”

“So, it wasn’t a conscious choice you made to withdraw use then?”

The blonde’s gaze tentatively shifted to meet her bodyguard’s, who was mutely sitting a feet away from her. His expression neutral, but she could see chaos fuming in his eyes.

“No, it wasn’t.”

“I see. Well, your body has been going through withdrawal anyway – and you probably weren’t prepared to cope with the initial symptoms. One of it being the increase in appetite, so from now on… _if_ you choose to continue with withdrawal, it’s crucial that you meet with a dietician to discuss your diet. According to Ms. Waller, I understand that this was not – “

“It wasn’t.” Felicity cut in quickly, her palms clamming.

There was a moment of confusion on Dr. Snow’s part, before she took notice of the stolen glances that the small blonde had been taking from the brooding security guard. Offering a look of understanding, Dr. Snow continued on without a beat. “As for treatment, unfortunately as of now, there is no proven pharmacologic therapy for coke addiction, but I can prescribe you medications to help with the intensive side effects you’d be experiencing, and these pamphlets here are some of the most effective treatment programs – “

“That… won’t be necessary, Dr. Snow. But thank you.” Felicity interjected courteously, her tone definite.

If faces could fall, Oliver’s plummeted to the off-white tiled floor. Swallowing his own thoughts, he managed to maintain a passive expression, and tailed close behind soundlessly after Felicity offered her farewells to the thwarted physician.

The bleach hinted at the sterile air where blue signs and trolleys meet, and the hallway stretched longer as Oliver held himself back from taking away the self-discharge papers she was signing.

 

_Can you picture this,_

_What a life we could've lived?_

 

The walk from reception to the parking garage was distant, like her, but their intended silence was broken by the blonde as soon as he sat himself in the driver’s seat of the hospital’s parking garage.

“I’m sorry… I, I don’t… I am so sorry.”

“… Do you want to talk ab – “

“I - fucked up... _again_. I ruined, what was… supposed to be a day of remembrance for you,” Felicity continued on. Her head shaking, not seemingly to have heard his slight interjection.

“… The unwelcomed memories it might’ve brought back when you had to be the one to find me,” Her voice broke into feeble murmurs as she covered her face with both her pastel hands. “God …I am so sorry.”

It took Oliver a full minute to process what his client had just said. It didn’t even occur to him until now that Felicity might have been wound up not on what had happened to her, but on her personal guilt for him.

Who else’s first waking thought after fainting, was to try to articulate her apologies for fainting?

Oliver stared in astonishment at the young woman in front of him, at how someone’s heart could be this belittling of her own, yet completely and unreservedly compassionate for everyone else’s. Oliver cautiously landed one of his hands on top of her angular shoulders, involuntarily lifting her gaze up to his.

“Felicity - I told you, you _never_ have to apologize to me. And certainly not for this, do you understand?” Oliver reassured, the tenderness in his voice unknowingly taming the depth of her skin and bones. “… We should be talking about what brought you in here – “

Only then did the blonde turn her head away to the window in response. Something invisible snapped within her, and that which had come together began to fall apart once more. He could see her mind working mindlessly to contain her emotions back into its habitual Pandora’s Box, and Oliver pursed his lips shut to prepare himself for the impassiveness that was deliberately masking away the most beautiful side to her.

His hand slowly fell off her rapidly icy shoulders.

* * *

  

(Flashback, F, 7)

The loosely held ceiling bulb lost its balance as the front door slammed shut, causing Felicity’s tiny hand to fly across her geometry homework. Sighing, the seven year old looked up to see Donna’s slouched shoulders and blood-shot eyes, which Felicity wasn’t sure if it was due to the tear stains on her cheeks, or the empty vodka bottle in her hands. Probably both, she thought.

“… What happened?” Felicity asked, her doe blue eyes filled with concern, which only earned herself a pointed glare from her mother. “Right.”

Donna made her way to the dining room table and planted herself in the seat across from where she sat, her hands went to rub away at the dark streaks of her mascara before the sea in her eyes suddenly ruptured into a waterfall.

“Mommy…” Felicity shifted herself closer in the attempt to offer her mother comfort, which only made Donna recoil her chair further away from the small blonde.

Burying her broken sobs into her sleeves, Felicity watched in helplessness as she stood in place, her coloured fingers rubbing together out of poor habit.

“I… I got the tea set you bought me opened up. If you’d like, we can practice for my etiquette class tomorrow…” Felicity offered quietly, the suggestion slowly pulling Donna’s face up to meet her daughter’s.

“Yea,” Donna agreed, her voice croaked out. “That’d be nice, Lissy.” Her response turning Felicity’s mouth up into a gentle grin, pushing her unwarranted guilt aside.

 

_We were two kids, just trying to get out,_

_Lived on the dark side of the American dream._

_We would dance all night, play our music loud,_

_When we grew up, nothing was what it seemed._

 

They arranged themselves in the living room silently, as Donna watched Felicity repeat the table setting routine like a video on loop until she nearly perfected the skill.

“I... I don’t like seeing you cry… did he make you cry again?” Felicity bit her bottom lips nervously, afraid that she hasn’t given her mother enough time to process.

“It was, it was never going to work out anyway,” Donna croaked out, the sudden hiccups cutting up her words. “He was never going to leave them. I should’ve known... I couldn't even take back my job at the casino and - God I’m so stupid…”

“No, you’re not,” Felicity stated with quiet absolution, her gaze trying to hold her mother’s. “It’s just," shaking her head in admission, "other people only let you down.”

Donna shook her head contemptuously, “I thought I could... “ Her voice cracked. “He told me to trust him - and I did, and I - I really thought he’d be different, Lissy… God I _lost_ myself in him.”

Blinking away the wetness, Donna let her lost gaze fall back to meet the seven year old’s. “We had all these plans… I don't... I guess somewhere along the way I just, forgotten what I've wanted to do with my life."

Felicity's small hands fell on top of Donna’s, squeezing it lightly. “Then we’ll figure it out together,” the blonde’s tone assured and earnest. “I'll be better," she whispered as she wrapped her lanky arms around her mother's trembling shoulders. "Katie called about another casting you know and - it's going to be okay, you have me mommy." Felicity promised, her small head resting on top of Donna's. "I'll never let you down.”

  
(End of Flashback)

* * *

 

The remnants of her scarcely preserved strength has been imbibed away by the six hour press yesterday, with Sara’s apologetic look increasing in frequency as she led the blonde venue after venue, offering herself as a body to hold onto as Felicity’s was slowly collapsing from absolute exhaustion and lies.

The bedroom presented her with equal amounts of relief and unease, but the refuge of the mattress won Felicity over as she has since made it a source of escape.

The stuffed animal was nowhere in sight, the blonde made sure of that. She wanted to dive head first into intended unconsciousness without being crushed by the cotton toy’s associative reminders. 

The next time Felicity blinked away her heavy lids, she was welcomed by the streams of sunlight peeking through the curtains. And the blonde was sure she heard a knock, somewhere in the back of her mind. Unfolding herself from the mountain of pillows and comforters, the blonde wrapped her naked self with the shrill white sheet as her sluggish gaze was caught by a warm wave of cerulean.

“I knocked. A few times, you didn’t answer and I… “

“Sorry, I was just –“

“I know.”

Felicity’s attempt to keep their gaze fell short, as her attention flipped back to the tray he was holding in front of her. About to voice her inquiry, Oliver beat her to the chase.

“I know you might still be tired – because of yesterday, but I thought you could get used to a proper English breakfast before we head to London.”

“I’m not really hungry.” Felicity responded on default. Her brain chastised itself in the aftermath as each word came out too rehearsed to be at all convincing. 

Oliver opened his mouth involuntarily before closing them once more, “right.” He stated, his tone incredulous. “Should I leave it here then, for, you know – just in case.”

“I…” Felicity began, her fingers reached to rub her temples for relief, before she shut her eyes in the attempt to calm the loud ticking in her head, the blonde sighed into a polite nod. “Sure.”

Oliver stood in place as Felicity kept her sitting position in bed, the silence lingering stridently between them.

“Look, Oliver…” Felicity uttered, her voice dressed with so much fatigue that it almost tamed Oliver’s building fire.

 _Almost_.

“I thought you’d accept it.” Oliver snapped. “Maybe that was… unrealistically naive of me to think that, but I really thought what happened that night… would give you… a new perspective on life, that I – “ His tone dejected, “I don’t know, that you’d at least hear out what Dr. Snow had to say…”

Oliver expected an equal amount of frustration to return, but was once again unsurprisingly staggered by her unprecedented silence.

“…She has referrals to some of the best treatment programs in the country, Felicity. I can go back and get those pamphlets if you want and…” Oliver continued softly, his voice incredulously hopeful.

“Can we – can we not… do this again, please?”  Felicity sighed exasperatedly. “I – I’m just really tired. And I don’t want to end up saying anything more to disappoint you…”

“That’s not, I don’t –“

“It wasn’t the first time.” Felicity disclosed, almost inaudibly. Oliver blinked in confusion, followed by an unconscious sinking of his shoulders.

 “So what,” His voice rising with frustration and a myriad of emotions he wasn’t quite sure of yet. “You’re just going to let them continue to dangle you like a puppet? They made you discharge AMA and do press for hours on the same day just to avoid gossip…”

“Only because YOU didn’t follow protocol.” Felicity spat, her voice virulent. “I was breathing, so you should’ve called Waller first –“

“YOU WERE UNCONSCIOUS AND ON THE FLOOR FELICITY, DID YOU THINK I GAVE A LIVING SHIT ABOUT PROTOCOL?”

“There’s a reason that I’ve never had a scandal, and that reason is Waller. It's her job to know how to handle these kind of situations, and I have to trust that I can count on you to act accordingly when it happens again.”

“What do you mean ‘when’.” Oliver growled lowly.

“I told you, it’s not the first time. It’s normal for us to faint Oliver, I understand that you were overreacting because…”

“No it’s not ‘normal’, Felicity, but it’s never going to happen again. Because we’re going to get you back on a regular eating sch- ”

“My manager dictates my meal times, not you.” Felicity countered, almost inaudibly. 

“JESUS I’m not going to sit idly by, and assist in your willful self-destruction - ” Oliver’s pacing was cut short, his knees now bent in front of her. “ _Please_ , Felicity.” His imploring blues trying to catch hers. “Talk to me.”

“... I’m sorry Oliver,” Felicity whispered, her voice filled with exhaustion. “I really am - and I’m sorry that all I can offer you is sorry. But I… can’t give you anything else. It was my own fault for dragging you into this. I was selfish to…”

“Felicity… I don’t know how else to say this to you, but you didn’t force me into this, and you certainly don’t owe me anything –“

“Maybe not deliberately – but I see the way you look at me,” Her gaze flicked to meet his, finding an amalgamation of indignity and turmoil. “And I know I carry around a burden that reminds you of someone you once cared for. I’m an addict, Oliver. Not obtuse.”

It hurt to see the defeat in him, for what reason her brain would not express. Felicity felt the weight of her eyelids pulling down on her as her body slowly crumples from the inside, perhaps she was oddly glad that Oliver was too in his own head at the moment to see the physical toll it took for her to maintain upright.

“I can’t –" Shaking her head, "I can’t be your island of redemption, Oliver.”

Their intensive gaze was disrupted as Oliver began to pace after a beat of quiet.

 

_Hello? Hello? Can you hear me?_

_I can be your china doll, if you like to see me fall._

_Boy, you're so dope, your love is deadly._

_Tell me life is beautiful, they think that I have it all._

 

“107.”Felicity sighed when Oliver didn't leave. 

“… What?”

“There are currently 107 essential people under my name’s employment.” Felicity clarified squarely, her honest gaze focused on the off-white painted wall behind him. “Their paychecks depend on how many shows I perform, how much merchandise is sold, and the amount of virtuous recognition I receive, and those things tend to come to a halt when you admit yourself into rehab…”

“… Just stop.” Oliver snapped. “...  _Stop -_ living for other people - what do _you_ want? … Do you _want_ to get better, Felicity?”

 

_I've nothing without you._

_All my dreams and all the lights mean_

_Nothing without you._

 

The question lingered cripplingly like the draft in her room. Her blank expression only shifting into something of a too well acquainted heartbreak when she heard the door click shut.

Heaving a sigh, Felicity turned her heavy gaze to the airtight container of coke on top of the drawer, sealed, and still untouched.

Like a moth drawn to the light, her legs soon found itself standing and facing towards it. Clenching her stance, the blonde then caught sight of a bright red emblem in her peripheral vision and paused, making a decisive choice to turn her body towards the half opened closet instead.

_“Extreme exhaustion and irritability are all common side effects during the initial withdrawal period, Ms. Smoak – and if you don’t display them already, the desire to sleep for long periods of time can also compromise your day to day if you choose to discontinue use… It’s best if I met with your support system, Felicity. You **cannot** do this alone... **It's a kind of tired sleep can't fix.”** _

Closing the closet, Felicity wrapped her porcelain arms around the costumed stuffed animal. Her knees gave up as her body reached the foot of the bed. Wordlessly cursing the height of her mattress, she slid down to the floor on its side and cradled her body into a trembling ball.

She fell asleep in her own tears, her frail fingers digging weakly into the poignant red ‘S’ on the toy’s clothed chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm back. 
> 
> \- Since the hospital, Felicity has made the choice to continue withdrawal on her own
> 
> Questions, comments, concerns? They are my joy and motivation, so do leave them down below. x


	7. Breathe Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sia - Breathe Me - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sa3S5bVzmPo  
> The Civil Wars - You Are My Sunshine - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gHa71o7qPE4

  

The focus in her dulled sapphires was centred on the twirling of the ceiling fan, and became heavily lidded as the stream of pink water from behind her made its way down the shampoo basin drain. The unceasing dialogue exchanged amongst her team was translated into background music as she let her body be pulled from the salon washing chair, and into one with her own frown staring back at her.

 “… When was the last fitting we did?” The shoot director questioned after his scrutinizing gaze examined the test shots, his voice dressed with annoyance.

“… Only two weeks ago, what’s the matter?” Sara hastily replied as she made her way next to him behind the camera.

“Did she keep to the diet restrictions?”

“It's _Felicity_. Of course she did –“

“So the swell in her stomach is just my imagination?”

“... I saw a few maxi skirts in the back we can try? Look Matt, should we really be wasting our money and time debating on outfits when the real spotlight's on the hair?” Sara countered lightly, but her raised eyebrows were tinted with challenge, making the director turn his mouth forcibly into a defeated smile before signalling wardrobe to take a disparaged Felicity back into fitting.

Walking to the star in question, Sara gave a casual shrug and attempted to strike up conversation in the hopes of offering some sort of comfort. “It's like he forgot this was a _hair_ shoot. And I for one actually like this dress better when it has actual hips attached to it. Even if it’s merely water bloat from the extra-large smoothie you downed this morning.” Sara joked as they made their way back to the dressing area.

Having taken her first steps at nine months old, Felicity's past infant self taunted continuously inside as the newly pinkette centred the remnants of her energy towards the stiff motion of her legs, sweating for her limbs to keep balance whilst persevering an easy smile and step for her assistant. 

Shaking her head, Felicity half whispered to herself. “…  It was unprofessional Sara. I should’ve eaten after, like I was supposed to.”

...

The days have only grown to be more demanding since the press release, and Felicity has since long ran out of muted apologies for her sweltering brain, turning away as it fell onto its knees and gave into relentless pleading for the gratification it could no longer give itself.

It was different this time, her body also suffered physically from the choice and she could feel each inflamed muscle growing a will of its own. Her limbs were much weaker and responded slower to the painkillers she carried. A cutting remark from what must be left of her left brain found its way inside Felicity's head, that perhaps she's tip toed the point of no return for far too long - for too many times, that not even herself could convince her own mind that _this_ wouldn't end up adding to the rest of her long line of inevitably broken endeavors.  

The warm touch beneath her chin belonging to one of the makeup artists gave her the repressed, but punitive reminder she needed to paste the brightness back to cover her own eyes, and to disregard the restless sensation of formication over her willowy limbs.

...

“No no NO. Felicity honey, for the last time - keep your left hand down on the floor and away from that face. And I want the other dead still and your head leaning at 45... WHY are your fingers still twitching?!”

The air in the room has been apprehensive at best, and the platinum assistant could feel the building uneasiness looking around as she tried to meet Felicity’s gaze – which were lowered to her pressed-together hands as an exasperated Matt continued off on his rant in front of everyone. 

“Okay… how about we take fifteen? Looks like everyone’s a little worn out from the hectic morning.” Sara suggested casually, to which a collective hum of agreement quickly followed. 

Swiftly following her client off set as the rest of the crew scattered away to craft services, Sara found the no-longer-blonde making her way towards the restroom with her purse.

“Glad to have you back from Star City Sara,” Felicity thanked as she turned her head to face her assistant. “Your daunting loud voice has certainly been missed.”

Wanting to say something, Sara’s voice of concern however was nippily buried by her client’s convincing continued nonchalance.

“But I just really have to pee that’s all - that smoothie has seriously taken up my entire bladder volume and… TMI?”

“Just a little.” Sara laughed, turning to head back into the main space before stopping with hesitance. “… You sure you alright?”

Felicity gave a reassuring nod in return. “Would I ever let you down?”

 

_Help, I have done it again._

_I have been here many times before._

 

Her hands were gripped like vice onto the lifeline that was edge of the sink counter as she swung close the restroom door. Pushing herself out of her slightly crouching position, Felicity sent a silent prayer to nowhere when she saw the empty single stall design three compensating strides away. Collapsing down against the wall inside the metallic stall, Felicity’s fingers hastily moved to lock the door and began to frantically dig into the contents of her bag on the icy tiled floor, releasing a sigh of relief dressed with vigilance when she felt the outline of the small plastic bottle she was looking for.

But it wasn’t long before the stab in her legs, the twinge in her hands, and the relentless craving that’s been gradually colonizing her mind inescapably pushed Felicity off the fractured edge.

Her half covered chest rose erratically with each desperate inhale of oxygen, as attempt after fraught attempt - the unsteady hands of the panic-stricken artist proved only to be a rigged game of claw crane. The salt water in her overfilled ocean collected into downward streams, taking bits of her waterproof mascara along with the fall. And the remnants of collateral damage were found in nails-sized scratches on her forearms, and a slight swelling on her knuckles from lashing at the metal divider. 

Unable to fully grip onto opening the cap, the final slip of the bottle slowly gave away to a frenzied break down as the same taunting voice within began their winning speech, Felicity jerked the white bottle hard against the wall in hysteric frustration – sending out a silent scream, and a dozen of red and blue ovals to fly across the floor like something out of a pill addict’s daydream.

 

_Hurt myself again today,_

_And the worst part is there's no one else to blame._

 

Not a wisp out of place on her hour’s long styled amaranth waves, and her body of silver jewelry impeccably fixed on her day fresh spray tan, Oliver watched with an amalgamation of wonderment and cautiousness as his client walked into the shooting space precisely as the right hand on his watch hit past fifteen. Everything carefully constructed except for the slight tremor in her hands, Oliver stood in place silently. His ocean gaze in search of the real hues behind her fluorescence - to which he knew he could not find. 

“Everyone back and ready to go?” Felicity asked easily, her voice dressed in that infamous allure. “I’m all yours Matt.”

* * *

   

By nightfall, Felicity was looking from the window of the parked black SUV out to the entrance of what would in four hours be filled with a full house of eighteen thousand in attendance. And with 1.6 million in revenue on the line tonight, she knew she couldn’t afford to have a repeat of this morning.

Looking over herself, the scratches on her arms were beginning to show through what had promised to be a long lasting concealer she’d bought online. And while promises weren’t something she put her faith in anymore, Felicity was running out of charming excuses to give her makeup team.

The window view however, was soon blocked by a sea of black as the car door opened slowly - almost allowing Felicity’s ears to adapt to the incoming screams of incoherent praises and its underlying expectations.

Her unmet gaze was rigid unlike the rest of her when Oliver came around to open the backseat door, to which she followed out of in reflex. Knowing she’d head straight to the fans, he signaled a clear path and followed closely behind. So far, Oliver could count on one hand the amount of times they’ve exchanged dialogue since he pointedly walked out of her bedroom three mornings ago. And he could undoubtedly acknowledge that not a single one of those times did his client begin the conversation, as their interactions have since been reduced and strictly limited to protocols and awkward greetings.

 

_Ouch, I have lost myself again._

_Lost myself and I am nowhere to be found._

 

“Felicity hey! Do you mind signing this?” One of the younger girls amongst the crowd stood out to her. What she lacked in height she made up for in the sturdiness of her voice, and Felicity could tell by the enthusiasm in what looked like emerald eyes that this was a first for her.

“Of course not.” The once-again-blonde offered an easy smile. The one she reserved for those who needed it. “This your first show... ? ”

“Madison. But you can make it out to Maddie. And yup, my first concert ever! It’s kinda my birthday today so…” Her tone keen but dressed with timidity, a vulnerable combination Felicity herself have outworn too long ago.

“Well I’m honoured to be your first kinda-birthday concert, Madison.” Felicity teased as she finished signing her own album cover. “... Stay safe, okay? It’s a full house tonight.” She added pointedly to the young brunette before hesitantly giving her shoulder a quick but warm squeeze.

It turned out her brain has decided to limit her public interactions to one as the singer’s eardrums began to ring incessantly with the increase in volume of screaming out here. Felicity allowed herself a brief moment between seconds to close her eyes, shunning away the hordes of white spots that were beginning to corner her vision. She couldn't afford to lose consciousness again.

And no one but Oliver took notice of the tremors in her hands when she opened her eyes in shock as she dropped her signing pen. The expression however, was minuscule and disappeared as quickly as her legs picked up speed towards the side door entrance.

...

“Is it just me or does it look much fucking scarier with the lights up and all the seats empty.” Felicity jumped slightly at the sudden voice of her assistant.

Sara always joked about that, but looking out at the view in front of her, the blonde once again failed to find any truth in her remark. Quite literally eighteen thousand faces were about to fill every single seat in this stadium tonight - the biggest she's ever done - for the sole purpose of just seeing her. Felicity couldn’t dissatisfy inanimate chairs. People, on the other hand. She’s learned time and time again since feeding inside her mother, the delicate art of falling short of expectations.

 

_Yeah, I think that I might break,_

_Lost myself again and I feel unsafe._

 

The final applause was near, and her eager ears could feel it as her fingers danced into the final chorus. She almost gave her past self a pat on the back for leaving the complex choreographies until they reached England. However, it wasn’t long before the sudden familiar twitch in her right index finger brought her drifting mind into full panic.

While her left hand continued the chords to accompany the lyrics that thankfully flowed out of her mouth like muscle memory, Felicity knew it won’t be long before the camera would zoom back into her hands, or worse, her eyes. Unable to look out to the crowd or down at her own two hands, her head instinctively moved to the end of the stage - meeting her fearful eyes with already watching ones.

...

Oliver witnessed the song itself bloom into completion during an early evening at a hotel in Central City last year. There weren’t a lot of pop artists whose concerts were well worth the three figures their tickets costed, and despite the fact that most of the stuff she'd inevitably end up performing were chart toppers - this wasn’t one of them.

Stripped down to her on the piano, it was Felicity's quietest song. Her voice a siren as melancholia shadowed her every word, wisping along the lines of being hauntingly catastrophic and recklessly beautiful. As if the ambiguous blue verses hid underneath stories she was not ready to voice without coated melody yet, and Oliver had to stop his own two feet from gravitating towards the stage.

He watched as the rootless sapphires in his client's eyes gradually shift into one of sheer terror near towards the end of the song, and while her voice and one of her hands continued on without notice amongst the audience, Oliver knew the growing anxiety he was seeing wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

...

He saw it. She knew he did. He always did. And Felicity let him this time, taking in the immediate feeling of sanctuary his warm eyes offered. In what felt like a lifetime, their lingering gaze lasted solely for a split second at most, before her eyes dropped to his hands - which were gesturing for her to lift up her own. Felicity raised her gaze back to Oliver's, her pair of blues hesitant, but his were unquestionably assured.

Perhaps it was his seeming blind faith in her, or the fact that her right arm has begun to have a mind of its own, that she lifted both her hands slowly away from the ivory keys.

She felt the unexpected apprehension of the faceless audience overfill the moment’s silence, but her head never turned to face them. Instead, sitting amidst the 950,000 square feet of crowded darkness, Felicity breathed in as steadily as she could, tangled her hands together like a prayer in between the space of her closed and numbed thighs, and looked on straight ahead.

Her ocean eyes never leaving his anchoring ones as she sang to him delicately every last word.

* * *

  

“Ms. Smoak, I have to say this is quite a late hour for a doctor’s visit - even for you.” Dr. Wells followed behind as Felicity stepped inside and made her way towards his home office.

“Technically, I’m visiting _you_.” Felicity refuted tiredly, taking a seat across from him. “My detail is currently in the belief that I’m enjoying an extensively lengthy bubble bath in my penthouse.”

“I see we’re back to the secrets again, Ms. Smoak.”

“You know I would’ve called Dr. Snow if she wasn’t away in Central City. She's always been more comfortable with the idea of being... discreet." 

“You mean like during your stay at the hospital earlier this week? … As much as I enjoy our banter, I can’t say she was exactly happy to pretend that she hasn’t met you before Felicity. Or about hiding your past… medical history.” Dr. Wells sighed. “But you’re here now, so I’m guessing you’re trying again?”

“One week.” Only five of them intentional, her inner voice reminded contentiously.  “I’ve… never gotten this far before, not without. You know.” Felicity added quietly.

Dr. Wells offered her a look of sympathy at her soft confession. “That’s really good news, Felicity, but like I’ve told you before – “

“Then you know that nothing’s changed. I still don’t have that option, Harrison, I - I didn’t come to sit through the same kind of talk again.” Felicity sighed, looking up from her pressed together hands. “I haven’t been… feeling well.” A clear understatement that only made both parties cringe at the blonde’s age old habit of downplaying and settling. “Physically, I mean.”

“Although coke has always been more heavy on the psychological, there have been reports of slow motor function and muscle spasms with chronic users, such as yourself.”

“... I need something for it. And the usual stuff.” Felicity admitted softly, banding her hands tighter together. “It’s been interfering with my work.”

The last sentence hit poignantly for both of them. Dr. Wells unconsciously pushed up his glasses, trying to meet her avoiding gaze. “Did... did something happen, again? Who - “

“No no no, it's nothing... like that.” Felicity quickly assured, receiving a nod of relief from the concierge physician.

“I’ll start you up with Amantadine in combo with Bromocriptine to help you decrease the intense craving and mood disturbance.” Dr. Wells stated into his recording device before he sighed.  “… The Amantadine will help with the aches, but I’ll write you up some antidepressants to ease the pain. It’ll help with your anxiety as well if you… _do_ you still have them?” Felicity only nodded slightly, her eyes fixed on the framed wall behind him.

“Felicity…” Dr. Wells began as he tore out the prescriptions from his notes. “... Is it still as often –“

“Thanks for staying up this late on such short notice, Dr. Wells,” Felicity interjected smoothly. “Please give Dr. Snow my best.” Taking the prescriptions from his hands, the blonde left him with a soft look of appreciation as she placed a hefty check on his desk, and quickly saw herself out before any sound could translate from his opened mouth.

 

_Be my friend,_

_Hold me, wrap me up._

_Unfold me,_

 

She did end up taking a bath. Only with less bubbles, and two bottles more of exfoliates to rid her sensitive skin of the browning chemicals she was sprayed with at Matt’s request. Felicity tried her best to surrender her full attention to the scrubbing action of her forearms and the reddening patches it drew on her latherless legs, but her mind’s attempts at resurfacing the day’s chain of almost-train wrecks providentially triggered circling thoughts of days familiar past.

Distortion began to run rampant in her head as her mind loses itself to bleak visions, and soon the shaking began to synchronize with the leg scrubbing. Her subconscious defense hoping that the nausea and the breaking of her skin would somehow overtake the self-punishing thoughts inside.

The sharp sting in her right leg and the sudden spasm of her loofah gloved hand brought the dispondent blonde’s meticulous actions to a halt, and her greying orbs to the source of the pain. Her head tilted, transfixed but unfazed, as she followed the slow stream of warm crimson spill from the raw patch of her upper calf down towards the emerald veins of her feet, before watching it mark its ombre red territory into the water.

Stood over in her peripheral vision with heavy substance was a too familiar darkened glass bottle, an isolated exit sign with its promises displayed without shame as all 320 pairs of her muscles jumped appreciatively at her finally acknowledging its presence. But it was the identical snaps of the four newly prescribed pill bottles beside it that’s never sounded more melodic to Felicity’s ears.

 

_“It’s recommended that addicts don’t try to detox on their own, as the symptoms can be so psychologically demanding. These prescriptions may help curb your cravings and the more severe side effects, but to face the realities of a completely sober life without new substitutes, you’ll need a loyal support system, Felicity - as well as intensive counseling and rehab.”_

 

Swallowing one of each into her mouth, she opened her eyes to find the glass bottle from the corner of the tub suddenly wrapped like vice in her hands. And like a dance with an old flame, the silent angst quickly gave away to a predictable ending everyone foresaw as the hopeless hopeful addict surrendered to the hysterical pleadings inside her head, and begrudgingly accompanied the tablets with half a bottle of Merlot to drown the slow-acting bitterness with immediate gratifying consequences.

After three reheats of the bath water, the bones in Felicity’s body eventually found comfort within the confinement of the rectangular tub and the illusion of drowning. Her limbs free for a moment from the dead weight of her own mind’s making and as she sank herself in further, each knot in her muscles gladly succumbed to the welcoming promises of the numbing poisons and the steaming water. 

 

_I am small and needy._

_Warm me up,_

_And breathe me._

 

The penthouse sung of silence when he entered from the elevators, and Oliver almost turned left towards the hall, to which she resided out of habit before shaking his head decidedly and switched his footing towards his own quarters instead.

John greeted him with a look of acknowledgement from his club chair by the corner before his gaze returned to what looked like a car manual in his hands.

“Anything new?”

“No, it was just a standard debrief with the boss. Thanks for covering the night, I know you’d rather go home and skype with Lyla instead.”

“Yeah.” John sighed. “But she gets it. Besides, I got to catch up on some reading. It’s getting late, I’ll do a sweep and leave if you’re good.”

Oliver nodded in agreement as he walked across the room to his drawer, taking out his sweats for the night before turning around. “Hey, uh. Did she eat? Tonight, I mean.”

John shrugged lightly, “I don’t know man. She wasn’t feeling her best after the show so she told me to drive her straight back, talked about ending the night early with a bath so I did a full sweep before planting myself on that chair. Kept my eyes on the entrance camera, we’re good.”

“... It’s not our job, you know.” John continued when Oliver only stared at him in response to finish, his tone softer but firmer than before. “To know, I mean. Just… remember why you’re in her life, Oliver.”

...

It was the sixth time he circled back and it was getting ridiculous. Her hallway seemed to lengthen the further he goes before turning back around to the living area.

The crowd of eighteen thousand was a faceless standing ovation after she sang him her last word of the night, and the entire memory was still at the stage of being processed when she already left for backstage. Not a word spoken to him and a half hour later, he was taken back into reality with John’s voice in his ear informing him that Felicity was heading back to the penthouse for the evening.  

But the sudden shattering of glass broke any thought Oliver had as his body quickly caught up with the instinct to move, his feet already in motion.

...

She was floating, somehow. The familiar feeling of weightlessness was a comfort she’d missed but was short lived as Felicity’s mind soon drifted above to consciousness, the once warm water spilled loudly from the tub as her body shook from the illusion, or the reality that she was currently drowning.

Placing her wrinkled fingers on the edge of the bathtub, the anticipated panic quickly settled in and frantic limbs flew to lift herself up only to trip on her own inebriation - sending the half emptied bottle of red to meet its end on the floor.

Between her and the door to the bedroom were now shards of glass sitting like a trail of defeat, or reverse breadcrumbs - and if her mind was clear and conscious enough, she’d know better than to let herself follow it. But weariness and anxiety have always found familiar partnership within one another, and took over the driver’s seat in her mind instead.

Lifting the almost dead weight that were her loosened legs, the blonde missed landing the palm of her foot to the ground and instead took a heavy stumble towards the toilet seat - not before a sharp cry of pain arose from her throat at the sudden sting near her right ankle.

...

Oliver's knuckles were about to hit the door when he heard a muffled yelp from inside, before breaking the barrier to Felicity’s empty bedroom. His gaze immediately searching for the source of the shatter and pulled the brakes when it reached the corner view of the bathroom, where a small pool of maroon was collecting at the bottom of the door gap - leaving what looked like fresh stains on the tiled floor.  
  
There were only two things Oliver knew in this world that shade of colour.

Breaking down the second door today, he was immediately welcomed by a cloud of trapped steam before his black safety shoes were met with what he presumed to be the source of the initial sound - and to his subconscious relief, the former holder of the spilled red liquid.

When the adrenaline waned down and his rationale reappeared, the stiffness in his shoulders returned heftily as Oliver began to reassess the situation of what could’ve happened here to cause the latter cry, and immediately, the pin drop silence in this bathroom became unprecedentedly uneasing.  

His gaze slowly turned to the once steam covered shadow to his right, half reluctant to know what he’d find.

Surrounded by the chaos, she sat terrifyingly still on top of the toilet seat. A pair of knees numbly tucked under a chin of a quivering hollowed frame, and something within him broke a little when his gaze found the lids above her unmeeting ones heavy with something far graver than weariness. Because there was recognition in that look inside his client - a familiar weight he remembered wearing from what he deemed another lifetime ago.

His steps studious, Oliver slowly closed their distance.  With his form bent at the knees and his right arm stretched out, he tentatively placed his hand on the shoulder of the porcelain statue, in hopes for a reaction of some kind. Waiting patiently, Oliver realized there was no recoil, or a slightest hint of acknowledgment from his pointed touch - just delayed goosebumps forming at the contact.

Giving her shoulder a soft squeeze, Oliver moved to encase her with a nearby towel before gently refolding her impassive body to his, and carried them both out of the hum of the crime scene - one he still knew nothing of.

* * *

  

(Flashback, F, 9 turning 10)

 

“That’s a pretty dress Piggy, mommy approves.”

“You’re making me regret making you read Lord of the Flies with me, you know.”

“Hey, even though Piggy was blind as a bat and the most vulnerable on the island - he was also the smartest.”

“... Wait, so you actually did read it?” Felicity tilted her head in disbelief.

“Do you not have _any_ faith in me Piggy?” Donna gasped mockingly. “Considering I planned this entire girls night out…”

“No no no - of course I do. Absolute faith. A hundred percent. I can’t _wait_ to go to the carnival tonight, I heard they make multi coloured cotton candy - I mean I have nothing against single coloured ones because they all just taste like sugar in the end but it’s still exciting you know? And the ferris wheel! I bet you can see the entire city from there - we just have to make sure I’m not afraid of heights I mean I don’t think I am, but you never know until you’re up there I guess wait do _you_ have a fear of heights? Are these things inheritable or -”

“Woah oxygen called and they asked if you needed some.” Donna teased lightly. “Breaaaaathe hun.”

“I’m just really excited that’s all. We haven’t got to spend any time together in a while and - oh is it five already? I’m going to be late for ballet!”

“Remember to take your slippers this time - ” Donna called out as she watched her daughter sprint out the door with her gym bag. “And I’ll pick you up at six!”

...

“... Alright, let’s go back to fourth position one more time.” Valerie instructed as she walked across the studio to view each dancer’s turn.

“That’s a fine pirouette, Felicity. Keep that back leg straighter for your fourth position.” Valerie commented, watching with an amused expression as Felicity nodded adamantly with a unmoving smile on her face.

“What’s with the glowy face today, Miss Smoak? If I knew you enjoyed pirouettes this much…”

“Oh it’s nothing, Ms. Valerie. Just that my mom and I are having a girl’s night out after class and I was... thinking about it… Not that I wasn’t focusing on the turns! I was. I was just…”

“Excited?”

“Yeah. Sorry Ms. Valerie.” Felicity mumbled with her head bowed down, her bottom lip under attack from her teeth.

“I’ll tell you what, if you can get your centre more aligned and that passe perfect, I might just dismiss the class a little earlier - what do ya say... we got a deal?” Valerie offered, her eyebrows raised in suggestion - widening the full bodied grin on Felicity’s face as her feet scrambled back into fourth position.

_..._

Her heartbeat was dancing above her skin as she skipped out towards the lockers to change into her rose dress. It was a gift from one of her earlier photo shoots last year - the only thing of Felicity's that was really worth any real money. She told herself she’d only wear it for the most special of occasions.  

...

It was eleven in the evening when Felicity was awaken by the ringing sound of the telephone beside her. Quickly wiping away the wrinkles on her now dirty dress from sitting on the door steps, the blonde eagerly pressed ‘talk’ on her cordless landline.

“Hello? Yes, I do. I’m her daughter - where is she, who is this?”

“This is Devin, I…”

“Oh.” The rest of his voice drowned out as her shoulders sank in a too familiar fall that she was quickly growing tired of.  “Yes, please do. Thank you Devin. I’m on my way there.”

It was easy for her to slip past the bouncer as she didn’t have to, not anymore. Heading straight for the bar, Felicity paused at the back of a half asleep blonde on the stool. 

“Mom?” Felicity tried. Her mouth against Donna’s ear, and her small hand shaking one of her clammy shoulders awake. “Let’s get you home, okay?”

...

“I thought... I knew I made the right choice... I knew Noah - ”  Donna stammered as Felicity rubbed comforting circles against her back on their shared twin bed. “How dare... with those eyes, but I know I can’t fall for that again. I do. We have a good life here - we make ends meet. I won’t let  - I won’t…”

“Sshhh, I know.” Felicity repeated nonsensically. The trips to the bar have been more frequent of a occurrence lately, but Donna would never bring it up the next day and if Felicity did - Donna would either lash out or grow distant, so she’d learn helplessly to keep her mouth shut on the subject.

Donna’s drunken rambles eventually grew into incoherent sobs that drowned out the sounds of the Vegas city nightlife, and Felicity had to keep softly encouraging her to cough so she wouldn’t choke on her own mire.

As her violent gasps for air slowly fell into quiet whimpers, Donna sought warmth underneath the crook of Felicity’s neck while the small blonde tucked her nearest arm around Donna’s shoulders to bring her closer, and caressed her face soothingly with the other - their diminutive statures intertwined side by side.

“I can’t… I can’t fall asleep - I can’t…” Donna muttered, her lids at half mast but her body still fidgeting.

As if awaking from deep thought, Felicity’s eyes perked up with an idea. “ I can sing to you, just like how you used to when I had bad dreams - I always fall straight back to sleep afterwards.” Nodding gently, Donna lifted her chin to rest on her daughter’s shoulders, her stained blues meeting Felicity’s with silent appreciation.

_"You are my sunshine, my only sunshine_

_You make me happy when skies are gray_

_You'll never know dear, how much I love you_

_Please don't take my sunshine away"_

 

Stroking Donna’s head to the rhythm of the wistful lullaby, Felicity’s feather light voice slowly faded as her mother’s heartbeat steadied, and her body stilled on the mattress.  

“... I’m sorry Piggy… I always let you down… I promise we’ll make it to that carnival… I promise…” Donna mumbled faintly, her voice dressed heavily with slumber.

As the small blonde's pair of sapphires glanced through the opened bedroom door to the living room, the familiar chime of twelve from the grandfather clock resonated throughout the apartment - fluttering Donna’s lids slightly opened.

“It’s okay momma… it’s just the lock. Go back to sleep… I’m right here. I’m right here.” Felicity whispered softly into Donna’s hair.

“It’s, it’s twelve…” Donna slurred, her mouth barely opened. The recently turned ten year old only looked down to her resting mother and hummed gently in confirmation.

“...Hap… happy birthday, Felicity.”

 

(End of Flashback)

* * *

  

The trembling in her body grew as Oliver gently laid her down the mattress in her bedroom. About to cover her with the comforter kicked towards the foot of the bed, his gaze landed on a silver of red trailing her right foot. After allowing himself a moment to chastise his deteriorating observational skills, Oliver looked up with concern - only to be met with a damp head of pale locks staring unblinkingly at the wall behind him.

Without a beat, Oliver walked towards the head of the bed and carefully tucked the wet strands behind her ear before opening night dresser to pull out the first aid kit. Slowly lifting her right leg to rest on his lap, Oliver's movements were practiced and efficient as he methodically cleaned and wrapped her ankle before gently returning it to rest beside her other one.

Despite their close proximity and long working hours, Oliver was clueless of how to approach his client, and her default impassivity was never of help either.  But for once, their extended period of silence was unsettling. Felicity hasn’t spoken a word since he kicked down the bathroom door, and to be fair - neither has he but beneath his stoic expression, Oliver’s inner mind was pacing back and forth while he sat there helplessly at the foot of the bed.

Sparing glances to her averting pair of blues, Oliver witnessed as her mind slowly shook itself out of the downward haze, and the widening of her eyes as she subtly surveyed the room.

As if her body had only just caught up with her surroundings, Felicity quickly scrambled into a sitting position on the bed - bewilderment and agony painting her face as her palms began to push down at her chest, as if her heart was climbing out of her throat.

Soundless stream of tears soon followed as they slid down her hollowed cheeks unselfconsciously, and Oliver could only hold his hands in fists as he stayed in place and watched. With her back against the headboard, Felicity curled herself unfathomably smaller - her head buried underneath her woven arms as she rocked her shaking form in place.

 

_“The easiest way is to picture a person you trust - someone who believes in you and cares about you. Now imagine them with you. Panic attacks often reflect the fear of your ability to cope on your own. By remembering or experiencing their presence can relieve those feelings of abandonment. So picture someone you trust taking you by the hand, and just_ **_breathe_ ** _.”_

 

Oliver’s fists clenched each time the blonde came close to choking on her own sobs - or from the lack of air, and the harrowing sound always had his fingers reaching for his cell in his jean pocket, before her past warning words would get inside his head to not dial those three digits.

It’s been a lifetime since he was on the observing end of an episode, and Oliver knew that there was little he could offer her right now. So he did the only thing he remembered he could, his hand slowly reached out - giving her time to react before delicately covering her much smaller one with his own.

When her head rose up at the sudden contact, they were both equally as confounded by what - and for her, _who_ they saw.

For the very first time, the tight-lipped windows to her soul were on full display - and Oliver was hit with a riot of feeling. There was...  _so much..._ there. The unabated suffering, the immense amount of fear, and a look of yearning that was unnervingly tangible - the way starvation was tangible. And perhaps for her, it was. 

He couldn’t decipher what it was she needed, but it wasn’t until that very moment in which Oliver realized, he would have searched through this entire football that was planet Earth to find it.

 

_Be my friend, hold me_

_Wrap me up, unfold me_  

 

 

_I am small, and needy_

_Warm me up, and breathe me_

 

For what could have been minutes or hours, they remained in that still fashion until their deep breaths began to synchronize, and her heartbeat relaxed back into steady hammers. Her hand tightened in his slightly when her mouth tried to open for the first time, and after another dozens of tries encouraged by a patiently sat Oliver, a shriveled echo of a voice found its way through her delicate lips.

“...I,” Felicity stifled before swallowing another lump in her throat, her rheumy pair of blues swimming in his for something he hoped she’d find. “… I do.”

Oliver scrunched his eyebrows together slightly in confusion, but waits encouragingly for her to continue. With their eyes and hands still intertwined, Oliver watched as Felicity silently fought with herself to keep their gaze - and her focus intact.

“I do -” Felicity tried throatily again. “- want to get better.” Nodding faintly at her own statement as if trying to convince herself, her piercing, yet still watering sapphires were dressed with a certain measure of conviction he’s never seen from the blonde before.

 

“I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. It feels like another two-parter, oops. (Stuff is happening...)
> 
> 2\. This chapter was structured & written differently bc I wanted the space to depict in detail how Felicity handles her withdrawal everyday in private VS how she presents herself to everyone else
> 
> 3\. Red and blue ovals= acetaminophen (Tylenol) 
> 
> 4\. F's 'I do' was an answer to Oliver's question in the last chapter
> 
> 5\. For those who're interested, I caved and got a Tumblr: maverickyoung.tumblr.com
> 
> Questions, comments, concerns? Always a pleasure to read your thoughts below (:


	8. Never Too Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never Too Late: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Li-yeWkEbRM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update within one month? What's going on?

   

It was moments like this one in which Oliver was reminded of her youth.

It was the first place she wanted to go when they landed in London. Oliver, aided by the ever faithful Google maps, drove until they were on the outskirts of the city where they were met with a sea of yellow that lit up a flicker of interest in Felicity’s eyes.

Something momentous had shifted between them since that fateful evening in L.A. when she wordlessly asked him to stay afterwards until she fell asleep - which turned out to be somewhere between four to six in the morning. Despite the fact that the bed and bathroom were left without a trace of what happened the night before when he awoke hours later on the nearby sofa - there were still remnants of the chaos that left scratches on the stone in her eyes, to which Felicity tentatively found herself letting him see whenever their gazes met.

It wasn’t until he was let into her cracks that they both truly saw each other. Until then, Oliver had been only looking at her from the window shade, but once the glass broke - the light came in. And to his humble surprise, a little bit of light got out.

They barely made it to the farm entrance before Oliver lost her. The gold in her locks - mirroring the sunlight, was flying wild as he watched the small blonde frolic into the field of rapeseeds. In these rare glimpses of Felicity, he saw what must have been the shadow of a girl that didn't bother to brush her hair like she could be tamed. And it made him wonder just how close to the sun could he get, before the light would eventually blind him. Because the apparentness of her pull was proving to be much more difficult to refrain from, especially when they weren’t at odds with each other - and Felicity was the kind of beautiful the blind could see if they’d somehow managed a way to give them three seconds of sight.

Her moments of happiness never lasted long, Oliver knew that. Something within her always pulls her back down at some point during the day, and on some days, it began as soon as she woke up. Felicity called it her ‘bad days’ and left it at that, but Oliver knew 'bad' wasn't a word she'd use lightly. The 'bad' he was allowed to see was her being unable to get out of bed when she really had to - even when she'd really wanted to. To his puzzlement and quiet suspicion, the trips to the bathroom would be more frequent than usual, and the pieces of food she'd try to keep down would always find its way out her throat before it'd ever touch her gut. 

She didn’t like to talk much during those days.

But today was a good day. Felicity woke up with her alarm on the first try, and bought herself a cereal bar at the concession stand in the lobby before Oliver drove them to board their plane. He took his usual seat on the couch across from her single one and watched with quiet sincerity as she picked reluctantly at the plastic wrapper.  His mouth ticked up slightly hours later when his peripheral vision caught sight of the blonde inhaling deeply before slowly breaking apart pieces of the granola to swallow, and closing her eyes in relief when nothing came back up. 

 

_This world will never be, what I expected,_

_And if I don't belong, who would've guessed it._

_I will not leave alone, everything that I own,_

_To make you feel like it's not too late,_

_It's never too late._

 

“... Thanks for bringing me here.” Felicity smiled nimbly as she turned to face him. She did that now, she smiled. Not yet with her mouth - just a faint twinkle in her eyes, one that many would've easily dismissed, or not have recognized at all. And perhaps it was the mid-day sun reflecting its own shadow, but Oliver knew without delay of what she was trying to confer in the way her usual blues flickered into something Oliver could only describe as looking into a galaxy. 

“I know, that we were supposed to head straight to the hotel to check in but...  I just thought, I could use a little quiet before all the... and you know we don't have rapeseed farms in the U.S.? England's one of the many places in the U.K. that farms these little guys - I admit the name is quite... unfortunate, but it's much easier to remember than Brassica napus - which is, what I was meaning to say was, I, I don't want you to get into any trouble because of -" Feeling a rather nervous ramble about to come his way, Oliver whispered her name in a way that instantly halted her needless apology - and tightened his hold when the blonde turned to look at his hand on the ball of her shoulder in reverence. 

He could do that now. Touch her. A squeeze on her shoulder for reassurement, or a soothing hand on the small of her back for those... bad days, when the rest of the world would get too loud for her. They’ve always talked with their bodies - mostly with their eyes, having both memorized what each shade of each other's blues meant. Admittedly, there were often times when Oliver wanted to ask about that night back in L.A. - of what happened in the bathroom before he came, but their carefully composed walls were both made up of eggshells... and what they had right now was just as delicate to risk knocking on. 

* * *

  

“And what about you, you always wanted to be a model?” 

Felicity laughed softly at the question. Her spiraling locks were spread like rays of sunshine against the off white hotel sheets, as her gaze returned to his tranquil ones lying on the sofa from across the room. Shaking her head lightly, the blonde answered. “No... no. But I have to admit, I've... never thought you for an aspiring baker either."

"I told you that in confidence." Oliver deadpanned, pointing his finger accusingly at her. Felicity tried to roll her eyes but only sneezed softly in response, prodding an actual chuckle out of Oliver before he tossed a box of Kleenex towards the bed and added. "A singer?”

“Not really.” Felicity replied, her forehead scrunched endearingly in a moment of thought. “... The singing took off because it needed to, I guess. I don't know, I think when I was younger I… I wanted to do something - anything with computers really and - but… you know.”

“… What?” Oliver questioned, his voice plainly curious.

Felicity only shrugged lightly in response. her voice a little hesitant now. “Life happened.”

Their eyes met in an understanding that the real reason was a long one, one that she's buried too deep to dig up for an afternoon lay down of twenty questions, so Oliver only nodded in acknowledgment and was about to smoothly transition into another safer topic before the singer added demurely.  “... I think, at least I’m doing some good here you know? I mean _your_ job... actually protects people, obviously. But I, I don’t know… I guess I've just been trying to…"

Felicity stumbled herself into a welcomed silence, her eyes slowly sinking into disarray before her mouth opened up with uncertainty. "... Do you - think it’s possible, that people can give others... what they cannot give themselves?”

 

_No one will ever see, this side reflected._

_And if there's something wrong,_

_Who would have guessed it._

 

She didn't notice the ache this time until the second hour.

Tomorrow night would be their first of two shows in London, and in addition to the sudden cold that she'd caught back in LA, Felicity has taken it upon herself to make sure she did as little amount of choreography as possible. Unfortunately, the singer herself had already pre planned their entire playlist with their grandest productions as it was an international concert - which she was beginning to regret immensely.

Into their second consecutive hour of dance rehearsal, Felicity felt her morning prescriptions and Dayquil starting to wear off. Agonizingly unhurried like removing an old band aid, her body crumbled laboriously from the inside out as the shooting cramps began to crawl into each of her joints, all the while her head drummed steadily into a pounding headache. 

It would’ve probably been hilarious, the way she sneezed during one of her turns, lost her balance and toppled over one of the dancers beside her. But it wasn’t. Not for Felicity. Because all of the sudden an all too familiar deja vu replayed right in front of her, as her eyes widened into one of utter fear.

The blonde felt herself being lifted off and sat onto something softer as hurried dialogue were exchanged amongst the dancers and the rest of her crew - her assistant’s voice stood out in particular.

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s all good, Felicity. Danielle’s fine, you’re a feather on her - can you hear me Felicity? She’s alright.”

Feeling paralysed in her own body, her eyes were forced to blind visions until the images from years ago were all that she saw, and the cutting words of too many yesterdays drowned itself into her eardrums. Felicity shook her head frantically, in hopes of chasing away the thoughts that she’s kept locked up with a deadbolt  - she can’t do this here. She _won’t_ do this again, she was finally beginning to believe in something else other than her guilt.

It was rather unfair, the way guilt works. One moment she was hanging on, then something as trivial as a sneeze happens that pushes down the first domino until every single fucking thing spirals and echos back to the worst moment - her darkest corner. Just a single involuntary action, that's all it took to knock down everything that Felicity's worked so hard to try to rebuild.

She was cursing away every expletive she knew inside her head, which was knocking in frustration as it began to whisper back its cravings again - and just like that, within minutes, Felicity's once good day vanished into one to which she had to spend multiple times in the bathroom downing more red and blues until her limbs were too numb to touch for the rest of the day.

 

_And I have left alone, everything that I own,_

_To make you feel like it's not too late,_

_It's never too late._

 

Oliver saw the shift when he greeted her inside the car. Gone were their light touches and easy banter. Instead, they were replaced with desolate silence and apologetically avoiding gazes.

He was still getting used to it, how to be around her when she was in this state. Since now that they were on good terms, he could.

Sara told him about the minor fall during rehearsal but didn’t say anything much more about it, all the while knowing he could clearly tell there was something more to than what happened - and that the blonde assistant, along with the dancers all knew about it too. It made Oliver wonder just exactly how many secrets were being kept around here.

...

“You sure you don’t need anything? Some... water or...” Oliver asked for what Felicity would deem to be the eleventh time in this hour.

Swaying her legs experimentally while sitting on the edge of the corner stage, the blonde slowly looked up to face her bodyguard, who was a conservative feet away from her. She tried to shoot him a pointed look or maybe even a false smile to push him further, but only ended up letting him see through the cracks once more - and the glimpse was enough to make at least five dark clouds of his own. 

The voice of the venue host cut their moment short, and began to ask the crew to gather around for a quick formality before soundcheck. Felicity swiftly turned her head out of respect towards the monotonous register of the bald man as he spoke, but was quickly distracted by the movement in her peripheral vision.  

Standing in the same spot away from the crowd was Oliver mouthing the host's words incorrectly in a mocking fashion, and when he saw Felicity's eyes on him, he rolled his and began to wave his large hand comically beside his head as the speech dragged on - hoping his lame attempt at physical humour would lighten her mood before she began her soundcheck.

And if Oliver thought he saw a faint twinkle of amusement in her sapphires when he turned for the door to backstage, he kept it to himself.  

* * *

  

(Flashback, O, 21)

 

The hospital window splattered with the sounds of clocks ticking, and it's been driving him over the edge every single time. Because from somewhere within, however subconscious - it reminded Oliver of the simple fact that their time was limited.

With his head between his rain soaked knees and cold sweat suffocated within the pits of his limbs, Oliver tried to swallow the stiff lump collecting at the bottom of his throat. Avoiding the actual clock on the wall, the twenty-one year old refused to look up to see futile hours pass by - not whilst knowing his entire world could just up and leave him on the operating table at any minute.

...

“She’s awake, Mr. Queen.” The young resident repeated gently once more. “Alert and oriented - a bit confused about what day it is, but that’s normal considering she’s been resting since her surgery.”

“Ca…” Oliver tried throatily, his face heavy with bags of sleeplessness. “Can I, see her?”

...

Oliver walked into her room on the third day post operation. It wasn’t a complicated procedure in nature, but she was underweight and her organs weren’t in the best of shape, which only meant an even higher risk of site infection and longer recovery time.

“Hey...” Oliver smiled warmly, letting out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding. “The hospital blue is starting grow on you." He tried to joke, but was barely able to finish the sentence without losing his voice. Coughing away the dry of his mouth, he continued. "Do you want some water - you must be thirsty…”

“So you’re trying the coddling method now?”

“Speedy, please…”

“Don’t call me that, don’t ever call me that.” The brunette cut in bitterly, pointing to her casted knee. “You did this. You. I want you to know that.”

Oliver didn’t bother rejecting the accusation, because it wasn’t one. Not really. While he wasn’t the man on the wheel with a 0.2 B.A.C. level, or the hysterical sixteen year old on her cellphone instead of pausing at the stop sign, he was the cause of the tears. He always was.

_The world we knew,_

_Won't come back._

_The time we've lost,_

_Can't get back._

_The life we had,_

_Won't be ours again._

“Thea Dearden Queen. What in hell’s name are you doing here.” Oliver growled as he pushed past a group of chemically enlaced faces to reach the waifish brunnette. 

“Let go - let go of me... how did you even - did you put a tracker in my phone again?... Jesus fucking Christ, Ollie.”

“It's been only a week since the accident and you’re barely cleared by the P.T. to walk on your own, let alone well enough to sneak out to a nightclub underaged on a Friday night! ” Oliver hissed in her ear, his arm still manhandling the brunette’s shoulders, which she immediately tried to shrug off.

“You don’t know shit about what I do and don’t do Ollie. You were never in my life long enough to know that." Thea snapped, heavy emotions rising above her disguised apathy. "And how about the next time you decide to tell your fake baby sister that you’re leaving for a third tour, you don’t tell her right after she finds out that you knew all along about MAL-ASONOFAFUCKINGBITCH-COLM.”

“...I know, I _know_ that you're in about five different kinds of pain right now, but I didn’t do _any_ of this to hurt you, Thea.” Oliver pleaded, his tone exceedingly desperate as he continued. “You’re my _family_. My _only_ family. Please Speeds, let’s just go home.”

“And where is this home hmm? The one you’re going to leave in a week for Afghanistan? We, we don’t have a home, Ollie. Not since -” Thea choked, her tears making its way around her cold emerald stare before she shook them away and moved towards the bar.

Her petulant facade returned when she came to face him once more. “Don’t bother writing me this time because I won’t be. You should only write to your family - and you’re barely my brother Oliver Jonas _Queen_.”

 

(End of Flashback)

* * *

   

It was the third time she puked up the few sips of water she managed to get in, her empty stomach gnawing with jabs of pain pulsating through her skin.

Having obediently followed through with her prescriptions and eaten when she could, no amounts of makeup could conceal the level of frustration and confusion that shadowed her entire being at her current state. Pulling down her flowing pink and black boho dress, Felicity quickly swallowed dry two more capsules of Tylenol along with a couple of Dayquils before walking her spineless self out to get miked, her hand against the wall for support. 

What the fuck was happening to her?

Oliver sighed internally with relief when his gaze found her slowly moving figure with the sound crew. And as if the blonde felt his eyes lingering, she turned to face him with a slight tilt of her head, silently asking him if he was alright before walking towards the stage.

Even with her ‘bad day’ was still in mode, Oliver shouldn't have been surprised at her distorted list of priorities. Oliver sighed and shook his head with disbelief at the painfully altruistic woman in front of him, and returned her selfless gesture with a small uptick of his mouth - hoping whatever got to her during rehearsal wouldn’t continue to eat her up during the show. 

They still haven’t talked about it; the question an elephant in the room no one wants to address in fear of its truth. Her frequent trips to the bathroom didn't help the case, and neither did what happened in the bathroom back in L.A. On the other hand, Oliver saw a shift within her. An objective shift in the way she carried herself after the hospital, and after her confession to him that night.

Some part of Oliver knew he couldn’t spend his time dissecting her actions, nor could he wait for her to tell him, in fear that she might never - not until it was too late not to.

 

_And even if I say, it'll be alright._

_Still I hear you say, you want to end your life._

_Now and again we try, to just stay alive._

_Maybe we'll turn it all around,_

_'Cause it's not too late,_

_It's never too late._

 

Standing amidst a line of dancers and five feet away from the edge of the crowd,  Felicity froze as she suddenly forgot where she was. A cloud of uncertainty overtook her blurred vision as her heartbeat began to climb on its own into impressive rhythms, and she could feel the nervousness in those surrounding her but her mind easily dismissed the thought with a much more pressing issue - she couldn’t breathe.

How can someone just unlearn how to breathe entirely? Dropping her entire weight to the stage ground, Felicity patted her hands around frantically in the attempt to steady the shaking floor… until she realized _she_ was the one who was shaking.

The last thing she remembered were two familiar arms surrounding her weightless body like a cocoon, calling out her name like a white hot flame.

 

_Maybe we'll turn it all around,_

_'Cause it's not too late,_

_It's never too late._  

 

Oliver carried her hyperventilating body out of sight the way a mother would a child during wartime, with absolute resoluteness and desperation.

There were paps and attendees everywhere, pouring questions out their lips he wanted to know himself - and as his body stayed behind to block off the area, his mind stayed with the distant ambulance until it drove too far out for his human eyes to capture.

“I can’t stay here John.” Oliver hissed into his Bluetooth as he directed the rest of his team to clear the venue. 

“You need to stay to supervise and report, you know that.” John responded prudently. Not hearing a reply from his brooding colleague, he added with warning. “Oliver. Waller’s not going to be happy about any of this. Would you rather be unemployed by the end of the night, or still have a reason to stay by her side?”

There was a hesitant pause before his reply. “There's not going to be anything left to stay with if she's dead, Dig."

The last thing John heard was the sound of a car engine before their comms were disconnected. 

…

“I’m Oliver Queen. Live-in security for Felicity Smoak, her ambulance should've arrived here fifteen minutes ago.” 

Oliver tried to stay civil, but only ended up barking at the blonde's whereabouts after being questioned of her emergency contact information by the front desk. 

“Ol... Oliver?” 

The man spun to seek out the whisper he swore he'd heard amongst the crowded Emergency room, and to his luck - he wasn't hallucinating. On a rolling bed a few feet away from him was a disoriented blonde surrounded by a team of scrubs. Quickly making his way towards her, Oliver forcibly made space between two of the hospital staff to stand right above her shriveling body.

“Felicity?" He tried, and when her hand attempted to reach out towards his shaking voice, Oliver never moved faster in his life. "Hey. I’m here. I’m right here.”

And just as both of his hands intertwined with her scarily freezing one, she became dead weight and the small monitor she was hooked up to began to beep in a frenzied manner. Squeezing her hand impossibly tight, Oliver began to panic. “Felicity. Felicity? What’s happening to her? What’s going on?” 

“She’s fibrillating, we need to bring her into a trauma room now.” One of the residents spoke as the rest of the team began to move the blonde towards a smaller room. “Sir, you need to stay out here and let us see what’s going on.” The resident explained coolly, and when she tried to loosen his hold on Felicity - Oliver became more fearful than furious.  

“No, no - I’m not, I’m not gonna leave her. I can't - please, NO -"  
  
The last thing Oliver remembered was his back being pulled to the hospital wall as the familiar ticking of the godforsaken clock taunted its return. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Chapter 7 was a writing experiment for me, so please never hesitate to continue giving your constructive opinions. We're however, back to regular programming w/ chapter 8.
> 
> 2\. A few readers have suggested an author's note to summarize the chapter, to which I'll refrain from doing as that would make the storytelling futile. If there is a need for explanation, I'd be happy to so in the comments.
> 
>  
> 
> Questions, comments, concerns? Just let me know below or on maverickyoung.tumblr.com. x


	9. The Scientist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Scientist - Coldplay Cover by Kina Grannis & Tyler Ward - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WEAAV-FAMlw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *EDITED* (revised grammar & wording as I didn't look over the first publish)

  

It wasn't as if the restraints in the form of four idle security guards on post were going to stop him, but only because Oliver was too busy brooding to not play along anyway.

He wasn't allowed to see her after they'd announced that she had been stabilized towards the middle of the night. Not until hours later when they finally got a hold of Waller - who was still her emergency contact, and asked her to verify Oliver's identity in person. 

So he paced.

A lot.

And each short-tempered step only managed to shave off another layer of his patience.

The bits and pieces that Oliver's trained ear managed to gather from staff conversations weren't even close to enough information to piece together what had happened to his client, and for once in his two plus years working for Waller, the man couldn't wait for the acrimonious woman to arrive.  

What had felt like the longest evening turned into dawn when Oliver was finally convinced by the staff to sit amongst the unwelcomed hallway, and that was when he saw another resident from the night before enter Felicity's room. From this distance, Oliver could hear a recently awakened blonde softly greet the incoming physician before the door quietly shut.

 

...

 

“How are you feeling, Ms. Smoak?”

“Cou - could be better,” Felicity tried to joke, only to cough involuntarily at the dryness of her throat instead.

Handing her a piece of ice chip, the mid thirties resident continued. “And are u aware of why you were sent to us for emergency care?”

“Uh... no." The blonde stuttered in slight confusion. "Where - where’s my emergency contact?”

“Ah yes, Ms. Waller was contacted earlier last night, she’s informed us that she should be arriving some time this morning. Until then, let’s talk about what brought you in here, shall we?”

 

...

 

“You’re very lucky, Ms. Smoak, unintentional overdose of acetaminophen are often harder to treat than if it was intentional, as it occurs after low, repeated doses that’s barely there to detect until it’s too late. Most cases lead to immediate liver failure, to which I’m happy to say that you've gotten away with.”

The information came like a dose of shock for Felicity. While she wasn’t particularly savvy with medical jargon, she did know how to read labels - she knew about the dosage limitations, and she's been careful about never taking more than what was recommended on the bottle.

“We’ve been giving you NAC to counteract the acetaminophen, so once we clear your blood results from the lab you should be okay to transfer out of the ICU.”

“But I - I never took above the recommended 4000 mg per day, I made sure I - I wasn’t…” Felicity trailed off into her own thoughts. 

“I’m sure you took the precautions you knew, Ms. Smoak.” The young physician responded with a reassuring smile. “However, mixing multiple remedies, like your OTC cold meds with your pain relievers without realizing that they both contain acetaminophen, or having taken them on an empty stomach could've all lead to you to accidentally OD ... which... brings me to our other topic of discussion, Ms. Smoak." The physician continued sensitively. "... When we were going through your bag for possible medications, we couldn’t help but notice -”

“Dr. Snow.” Seemingly saved by the bell, Felicity called out the name in surprise... and with a hint of relief as the brunette walked in with a small carry-on beside her. Nodding quickly to Felicity, the woman turned to the other physician and muttered something into his ear as he snuck a few glances at the blonde, his expressions ambiguous before quickly nodding his head, and left without another word.

“Waller got me on the next available flight from Central City.” Caitlin explained, her voice slightly out of breath as she dropped her bag onto one of the chairs before walking up to her bedside.

Felicity nodded in understanding. "Thanks for coming on such short notice... I kno -”

“... Aren’t - weren't you the doctor from L.A. General?” Felicity spun her head around to trace the familiar voice back to its host, who was currently standing at the door with her manager - confusion and a hint of what Felicity hoped to be solely curiosity colouring the man's tone.

“Uh - yes, I am.” The brunette coughed, her eyes unsure as she returned to face the blonde in bed.

“Dr. Snow has been put on retainer by Waller since our last visit,” Felicity explained smoothly. “Isn’t that right?”

“... Yes, that sounds about right.” The doctor managed to offer a small smile to her client, then to an arm crossed Oliver witnessing the entire exchange with silent suspicion.

 

_Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry._

_You don't know how lovely you are._  
  
_I had to find you, tell you I need you._

_Tell you I set you apart._

“... How bad is it?” Felicity asked, her fingers of porcelain fidgeting nervously with her hospital gown. 

“It’s recoverable but...” Waller sighed. “The entire incident had gone viral overnight so I’m flying back to L.A. to do some PR - debunk the rumours, defame the headlines, update your SM… the standard stuff. _You_ ,” the dark brunette added as she patted the top of her client's shoulder. “Don’t worry about a thing and just get some rest.”

“And you,” Waller pointed at the hard glaring bodyguard from across the room.”Come with me.”

 

…

“I thought we’ve already debriefed everything as of last night on Skype.” Amanda stated as soon as they found a clearing in the private corridors of the unit floor.

“We did.”

“I’m not made of time, Mr. Queen,” Waller snapped. “Why did you want to call a meeting?”

“ _What do you think?_ ”

 _"_ If you haven't already noticed, everyone else's busy doing their part to clean up this mess. " Waller replied squarely. " _Ms. Smoak’s_ prognosis’ looking fine, you should be expecting to drive her from the hospital by tomorrow morning... And not to worry, I still haven’t forgotten your contracted leave for this weekend, which...  _couldn't_ have been of worst timing..."

“I -" Oliver sighed. "I meant how are we going to proceed with Felicity’s schedule afterwards.” 

“That’s not of your concern yet, Mr. Queen, not until I've told you that it is.”

“Are you going to push back the tour?.” He pushed, his tone clearly laced with accusation despite the placateness of his face. 

“There is a set protocol to which I do my _job_ , Mr. Queen, one that I do not need to explain to you. So if that is all -”

“I could never see it coming, her dark cloud." Oliver shook his head, leaving a crack to his true expression. "And whenever I do - I'm  _always_ already too late.” Oliver's reprimanded gaze locked onto hers. "Fuck, maybe the fact that she's been hospitalized twice this month’s not of concern to you, but my job _is_ to protect her.... And who I  _can_ protect her from is _you_.”

The dark haired woman only huffed a humourless laugh and raised a single brow in response before returning to her stoic expression. “... One week. That’s how long I’ll be in LA for. If she wants to go with you, I won’t stop her. If she wants to lay in a hotel for the week, Mr. Diggle will cover for you during your leave like we’ve discussed.”

“Except if you hadn't noticed, we're standing in intensive care.” Oliver countered, his tone filled with exasperation. “She almost _died._ She needs more than a week - anything _less_ needs more than a week.”

“Mr. Queen.” Waller warned, her expression hard like when she first stormed into the hospital this morning. “We will all talk about how to proceed _after_ things have settled down. Until then, try to remember that your job is on a _very_ thin line." When she was met with silence, the woman raised the sharpness in her tone. "Are we _clear_?”

 _“Peachy.”_ Oliver bit back with his teeth clenched, his low voice border lining a growl when the woman reached towards the elevators. “In the meantime why don’t you enlighten me about all the shit that's being kept from me around here."

The remark, to Oliver's surprise, efficiently halted the manager’s step into the opened elevator doors. "... I'm afraid that those secrets, if there are any, are not mine to tell." Waller responded, her back still to him.

The next words came out clearly as a growl. "You can't be fucking serious if you think I'm not well aware of who's really in charge in her life."

“You want the truth?” The woman shook her head with mirth as if what he had said was the most ridiculous thing she’s ever heard. “The truth is that you’re out of your depth, Mr. Queen.” Waller rebuked, turning around to face him once more. “Felicity’s not a _pet_ for you to take care of - she doesn’t belong to you, nor to what’s left of her family either - hell, to some extent she’s not even _mine_ to keep. _Felicity Megan Smoak_ belongs to the world, and the sooner you open _your_ eyes to see that, the easier your life will be. And in turn, so will all of ours.”

* * *

 

"I didn't know, Caitlin." Felicity whispered as Caitlin went over her chart beside her bed. "I needed something for my cold along with the painkillers and I - I didn't know."

"I know, Felicity. But... I thought Wells got you something for the pain?" 

"... It wasn't enough." Felicity replied pointedly. 

"I'll see what I can do, but Felicity, no more over-the-counter without talking to me first okay? It's too easy to hurt yourself with them." 

Felicity folded in her lips before lowering her head. "I - with your - _the_ divorce... I just - I don't want to be a bother Caitlin..."

"You're my client, Felicity. It's my job, twenty four seven." The brunette assured kindly, to which the blonde nodded in return. "... So, how's the rest of the prescription working for you?"

"Well, the doc from before almost found it last night, so lets maybe try invisible bottles next time." Felicity replied nonchalantly, earning a pointed look from her physician. "Well alright then, side effects will no longer include dark humour I guess..."

" _Felicity_ ," Caitlin pressed. 

"It's been just like _last time_ , Caitlin. Some good days, mostly... bad." The easiness that she'd tried on quickly outworn her as the blonde shook her head half heartily before locking her gaze down at the dotted pattern of her gown. "I... I can't help but to just... _wait_ for something inevitable to happen again but..." Suddenly remembering the physician's original question, Felicity sighed and switched gear. "But, but I know I've been calmer, and I'd like to think it's because of the meds."

"Felicity, last time was different." The brunette tried to explain. "You weren't... there were a lot of things we could've done better - that's not the case anymore."

"Yeah, I know. I - I know." Felicity nodded continuously, as if trying to convince herself once more before a knock on the door pulled her out of her spiral. 

“Your brain has to experience enough of the chemical imbalance triggered by the discontinued use to resume its natural production of neurotransmitters." Caitlin pursed her lips before she continued. "I won't lie to you and say that this process won't be time and energy consuming. In fact, until then, the depression, anxiety, and suicidal tendencies will persist and become harder to self-manage... Cocaine has a strong hold on its addicts, which is why the risk of relapse is so high and why I'd never recommended this way of withdrawing alone -"

"Dr. Snow," Felicity sighed with reprieve.

"I know - I know you've heard this all from me before, I just - just hang in there, okay? I... I know you'll figure this out." The knocking returned again, gaining the physician's attention.

"... It's your head of security," Caitlin told Felicity when the former glanced over to the glass door out of curiosity, and caught onto the immediate shift in the blonde's once dulled greys. "Are you two close?"

Felicity shrugged inwardly, "I... I mean he lives with me." Her body and tone almost defensive at the doctor's question.

"I see... and does he kn..."

"Nope. And I'd like for it to stay that way."

"If he lives with you, it'd be better for him to know, just in case."

"I said NO, Caitlin." Felicity snapped, followed by sighs of soft apologies. "He's... nice... to me, I mean." the blonde confessed almost inaudibly before her gaze returned to her twisting hands again. "Is it selfish of me to not want to?... he's... a _good_ man, Caitlin. I can't..." she trailed herself into another loaded silence. 

"You don't know that," Caitlin started before halting her own speech after spotting the dark clouds starting to form around the blonde's irises again. Sighing, the brunette stood up and headed towards the door. "You said it yourself, the meds are working - slowly, but still working. _This_ is different, _you're_ different now." Slipping another glance at the stoic guard standing on the other side of the door, she added. "We... we cannot live our whole lives in fear. And he seems like a man who can take care of himself." 

 

_Tell me your secrets,_

_And ask me your questions,_

_Oh, let's go back to the start._  
  
_Running in circles,_

_Coming up tails,_

_Heads on a science apart._

 

The air in the room was more awkward than uncomfortable, It was a kind of deja vu he never wanted a repeat of - her pale gowned body hooked up to thin tubes and the quiet beeps of the monitor. Only this time, she was fully awake - and staring at him by the doorway from her bed. 

Oliver wasn't sure of how to diffuse this silence, or whether if he should at all. This back and forth between them has got him in the mix, and he could never be sure of where they were standing.

"He - hey," Felicity croaked out after a while, effectively bringing him out of his own thoughts. 

"Hey," Oliver quickly returned the greeting, his gaze unconsciously falling to her lips - which were falling victim to her biting teeth. 

"I," they both continued in unison, followed by a trail of silence when they'd realized they were synchronizing. 

"You first," Felicity suggested after their awkward huff of laughter died down but Oliver only shook his head.

"You," he softly insisted. Their gaze returned to each others' and Oliver saw the slight hesitance in hers' before her pale lips were released. 

"... The cold got to me and - I didn't realize how many I took, or the Tylenol... it was an _accident_." 

"I know," Oliver assured quietly after a comforting pause. "Waller told me what happened."

The blonde nodded in understanding and returned her lips back to the torment of her teeth, and while Oliver tried to hold her gaze - the pair fell quickly to the joining of her frail hands. 

The man thought twice before taking an experimental step inside, constantly keeping watch of his client's reactions before maneuvering his way to the chair on her bedside. The air between them has only become more unsure until he caught her lowered gaze stealing nervous glances at him. It was no surprise that forward conversations have never been either of their fortes - or conversations in general, as every syllable of hers were always laced with so much uncertainty, and layered with a kind of ambivalence they both know he could never decipher.

Thinking about it now, Oliver could never recall a single moment of complaint in his almost two years of working for the blonde. Having always aimed to please and never running out of places to take a hit - whether it be from the company, the media, or whatever that had came before him... and her own decaying body - looking at her now, lying strangely comfortable in an intensive care unit, it was difficult not to simply admire this hurricane of a woman.

In his thirty two years of life, Oliver has never found a more perfect soldier to remind him of who he once had tried to be. 

"Shouldn't you be packing - for your holiday leave I mean... it's this weekend right?" Her quiet words were laced with weak courage, making Oliver wish one day he could tell her just how brave he thought she was. 

"Yeah... I was meaning to talk to you about that." One of his hands went to rub the back of his neck sheepishly.

"... Is something wrong? You know if it's Waller, I can t..." Felicity ditched her nervous tick as she tried to turn her body towards his. 

"No, no. It's uh..." Oliver's gaze fell in search for the right words, knowing how much they effected her - only to find that his mouth has already begun moving. "... Wanna to come with me?"

The sudden slip caught both him and his bedridden client by surprise, but the man quickly masked his with a tamed smile and continued on tensely. " _Waller_.... said that Dr. Snow put you on bed rest for the week - but I - she'd told me that if you wanted, my cabin's big enough for two." He tumbled into a finish with a small shrug.  

 "Oliver..." Felicity's face softened at that. "I know Waller's pushy and well, grrrr, but you don't have to take her half assed threats seriously... I'm sorry she tried to ruin your vacation I -"

"NO, that - that wasn't, I - that didn't come out right." Oliver stopped her quickly as both his hands came up to scrub away his day old face. Taking a much needed breath, he shook his head and tried again. "What... I meant was Waller and I were talking and I, and I asked her if you'd have a better recovery if you came with me instead. Away from the city, the media - everything. She... thought it'd be a good way to stay low while she was gone."

"Oh."

"Yeah." Oliver trailed off, waiting for her to say something - _anything_. "So what... what do you think?"

After a long pause, the blonde responded quietly. "... _I think_ it's your time off Oliver. I mean you haven't had a break from me since last year."

"So haven't you for the last five." Oliver rebuked softly. "... I _want_ you to come, Felicity. If  _you_ want to, that is."

It was only after minutes of silence that Oliver's gaze hesitantly returned to meet hers, wondering if his question had ruined all the progress they’ve made. There was a lot going on in those eyes, things he was sure weren't meant for his to see, but through the cracks she allowed him in - Oliver saw it all anyway. He couldn't recognize any of them except for one, it was a feeling they were both well acquainted with - and he didn't know what to think of it.

When guilt was always the first instinct that'd find its way into her eyes whenever she looked at him. 

* * *

 

(Flashback, F, 20 years old)

 

It was five to two when she left the park bench and let her feet take her slowly to the single story bungalow. This three minute walk from the park to the suburban home had been a year in the making, and yet Felicity would always cop out as soon as her eyes landed on the front porch.

This time her finger landed on the doorbell and her heart jumped with the ring. It took everything within her not to bolt right then, her heel covered toes planting themselves to the ground and her hands hanging onto the bouquet of blooming sunflowers and rapeseeds.

“Mrs. Richards, hello.” Felicity let out when the door opened to reveal a frowning middle aged brunette. Her permanent look of anguish still in place like the last time they met.

 

_I was just guessing, at numbers and figures._

_Pulling the puzzles apart._  
  
_Questions of science, science and progress,_

_Do not speak as loud as my heart._

 

The place looked just about the same as the day she bought it under the Richards name. Anything new she already knew about beforehand, having taken care of every single purchase this household's ever made.

“What are you doing here Ms. Smoak.” The woman sighed in exasperation, exhaustion filling in her tone and the aging wrinkles on her forehead.

“I just thought - I… It’s her birthday.”

 

_Tell me you love me, come back and haunt me_

_Oh, and I rush to the start._

_Running in circles, chasing our tails,_ _  
_

_Coming back as we are._

 

She really thought she’d be prepared to see her like this.

The room smelled of cleaning supplies and months of decay, while the steady beep of the monitors only pressed down on the pedals of her anxiety. She could feel herself drowning in the pit of her stomach, but this was the furthest she’s ever gone, and she was just too close to bolt again.

Felicity didn’t know how long she stood at the doorway before inhaling a breath of courage and stepped further inside the room to make herself known.

It was the stillness of her form that pulled at her barely contained sob. There was about five tubes going in and out of what was once the most agile body she'd ever known, and it broke her in a million ways she’d always remember. And since the ventilator kept her head straight in one direction, Felicity found a way to avoid her gaze by sitting on the chair beside her bed.

She still wasn’t strong enough, she never was. Not like _her_.

It took a while before the twisting of her gut slowly unraveled somehow, and the quivering in her voice box managed to settled down. 

“Hap - happy birthday, I uh - got you your favourite.” Felicity let out brokenly, lifting up her hand of yellow flowers before placing them on the nearby table.

After wiping her eyes dry and clearing out her throat with futile attempts,  the small blonde tried again. “I… I know there’s no excuse, for how long it took me to just… bulk up the courage to see you and I - I know I don’t deserve to.” The blonde continued with her head facing down, unable to stand up and look her in the eye like someone braver would.

“Nnnnngh…nnh.” A deep croaking sound caught the 20 year old by surprise. Lifting her head up to the source, the blonde stood up to meet her gaze as the moaning from the bed persisted in a louder fashion.

Felicity had always thought that her emerald eyes would hold some level of hatred, loathing, or even grievance - but she never thought when their gazes would finally meet, she would find an unblinking reflection of absolute defeat that mirrored her own.

“Charlie…” Felicity whimpered, shaking her head in heartbreak. “Please…”

“nnnNNgh - NNNNGHHH!” The moan frantically grew into an incoherent growl that mimicked the act of lashing out, which only made Felicity flinch, sniveling broken apologies as she backed away quickly towards the opened door, and out of her sight.

“You really thought she would?” Mrs. Richards questioned rhetorically, walking in front of her to close the bedroom door as the painful sound slowly drowned out to uncomfortable silence. “She doesn’t want to see you - she barely wants to see _me._  She doesn’t want to see anybody.” She continued as they walked back to the living area.

"... You know, I could never understand what she saw in you. She'd always been too attracted to danger, that girl. " Shaking her head disapprovingly. "Thinking she could save everyone who doesn't want to be saved.”

“It wasn’t her fault - ”

“Damn right it wasn’t!" The woman snapped. "It was _your_  damn charm and _your_ recklessness that turned her life - _our_ lives, into...  _this_.” Her hand gesturing fervently at the handicap equipped furniture around the house.

Felicity stood there silently as the brunette slowly calmed down her breathing, before she sighed at the dolorous blonde and added disdainfully. “You should go, Ms. Smoak.”

The blonde failed to swallow the thick lump collecting at the bottom of her esophagus in time, so she softly nodded and turned around for the door.  “... If you need anything - _anything_.” The blonde offered throatily. “Please just. Let me know.”

Shaking her head bitterly, a sour chuckle escaped the woman. “You _just_ don’t get it do you - if you think sending us half your paycheck will somehow make up for your past, then by all means, Ms. Smoak.” Mrs. Richards replied with both her hands in surrender, while her voice dipped in acid.

“But I’m not going to be alive forever, and when my body inevitably gives up - she’s going to have _no one_. And you can hire as many caregivers as you want, or even leave her to rot in long term care for all I know - but it won’t change the fact that Charlie’s _twenty two_ years old, and as long as she lives on in that bed  - so will your guilt.”

 

(End of Flashback)

* * *

  

She didn’t know how she got there, but it didn’t really matter in the grander scheme of the endless list of poor decisions she’s made so far in life.

The party was held for her, but she was not surprised that it continued on without her presence. Felicity was pretty sure none of these guests knew it was for her anyways, so there was no one to blame except for the fact that she was here. And this was heaven in hell for people like her.

There was always something so comforting about this scene, no matter the time or country - the smell of white powder would be disguised as rich perfume, the flow of heels will clatter along with reckless laughter, and the absence of light would always make the masks she polished during the day unneeded. And perhaps some parts of her truly believed that this was where she would always belong - as if there was a more familiar setting, she would call it home.

And her brain was quite literally leaping in joy right now, its voice drowning out the remix of three different club songs with its demanding volume, and shifting her sight to only a destination of white.

The urge was slowly untying the last strings to her willpower, and Felicity’s hands shook as her body rocked back and forth manically amongst a crowd of people on the long sofa who were already too far gone or going in for seconds. It just laid there mocking her, a pool of pure immediate gratification and it was so easy - too easy to just let go of her hands and roll up one of those hundred dollar bills on the table.

It always ended like this, the inevitability was not lost on her - even in this manic state.

...

 

Her heavy eyes were crawling on top of city roads when she found herself near the back entrance of her hotel. Swinging from the street lights and her body left unsatisfied, the blonde quietly stumbled into the private elevator with heels she should’ve given up on a long time ago.  

 

... 

 

He didn’t know how long she’d been in there when he slammed opened her bedroom door. But she certainly hadn’t been there an hour ago when he checked, then proceeded to rip apart the entire building and its perimeters afterward.

“Where _WERE_ you. You didn’t take your phone, your bag - _NOTHING_.” Oliver barked - and he was glad that she didn’t seem to have heard him as his words came out much angrier than he wanted to, or anticipated.

With only a slight raise of her shoulders every few seconds indicating breath, the small blonde was slowly pacing back and forth robotically along the large window panels.

“Felicity?” Oliver called out, his tone a complete 180 when he said her name as he slowly made his way towards her shadow without thinking. 

She seem to have recognized his voice, or her name, as her steps slowed into a pause, and turned to meet his blues with temporary confusion before something closer to comfort than acknowledgment settled within her irises. 

It was when he'd finally made it to stand in front of her, that he noticed her entire body was quivering despite the over-sized black sweater she'd downed. The sweater itself hit almost mid thigh but it was clear that there were only naked bones beneath. Taking a quick scan across the room, Oliver noticed a flimsy piece of what looked like a black dress on the floor near the entrance, along with some books and a few other belongings thrown out of frustration across the room. Immediately searching for something heftier for her to wear, Oliver quickly covered her with his own suit jacket before reaching behind him on the bed to wrap the comforter around her body as well.

They stood like that for a while, her a statue amidst an earthquake and him trying to rub warmth into her arms over the thick layers of fabric. When whatever that had caused her the spike of adrenaline wore down, her legs immediately failed her and dropped her entire weight towards the ground before Oliver kept her stance and guided her towards the edge of the California King. 

Not knowing anything about the situation as usual, he sat himself on the chair across from her and waited. For what, he wasn’t sure of, but her being here, safe and breathing was a far more comforting thought compared to what he had felt only an hour ago.

The watch on his wrist told him it was another hour later when she slowly untangled herself and let the comforter fall off her back. Thinking she was ready to talk, Oliver looked to meet her eyes but found himself following the movement of her legs towards the built in hotel safe beside the closet instead. Oliver watched with a heavy load of curiosity as his client paused in front of the opened safe for a moment before slowly taking out what resembled a black makeup case, and returned as smoothly as she could towards the edge of the bed, considering her still slightly shaking body.

Whatever it was that she was about to share with him, it was devouring her from the inside as he watched her knuckles turn dead white as both her hands held onto the case handle like a bomb in its last second of a countdown. And it felt like the weight of the world was in the palm of his hands when she slowly brought her arm forward and held the bag out for him to take. But when those harrowing sapphires finally reached for his, Oliver was truly reminded of what absolute fear looked like.  He felt it, like when he was about to witness his first kill.

Orange - and not the fruit became his entire field of vision when he unzipped the incarnation of her fear. Oliver could feel her gaze on him as he slowly reached inside to pick up… bottles, tens of prescription bottles - most of them empty, some of them freshly filled.

There were... already _so_ _many_ questions he had for her before this, and now... he couldn’t make sense of the complicated drug names, or even the names of some of the pharmacies - but a few of the bottles were dated back as early as 2010, and they were all made out to a ‘Megan Kuttler’ and signed off by some physician named Dr. Wells and... a Dr. Snow.

Confusion filled in his brows and Oliver looked up to meet petrified eyes, which were now attached to the ground between them. He didn’t know what to do with… _any of this_ , but he did know that sharing this fucking terrified her. And that was the last thing he wanted to be the cause of.

He carefully zipped the bag back up and left it on his chair before slowly crouching in front of her dangling legs - his arms on the bed next to either sides of her body, and his gaze just as intense as he looked up to a mess of honey curls. 

"...Talk to me," he whispered steadily.

 

_Nobody said it was easy,_

_It's such a shame for us to part._

_Nobody said it was easy,_

_No one ever said it would be this hard._  
  
_Oh, take me back to the start._

 

“Those are mine,” Felicity told him after a pause. Inhaling a shaky breath and keeping her eyes away from his, she continued. “I’ve… been sober since the first hospital stay back in LA."

The fact that her confessions did nothing to answer the long list of questions in regards to what was in that bag was not lost on Oliver, but the man was completely blindsided by the last part of her sentence. That she's been withdrawing all this time. On her own. 

"The detox had... has taken its toll on me in the last week." Oliver knew that she'd hoped this sentence would be enough to explain her past week's behaviour, and the real - and very ironic reasons behind her accidental overdose. And perhaps for him, it _was_. 

"Felicity..." Oliver tried, his warm tone continuous after saying her name. "Where did you go tonight?" 

The question seem to have poked at the cracks in her eyes, as Felicity’s voice began to falter. “... I don't, I don't know how I got there... it’s just all it lets me think about - it's all I see - and hear, and smell and I... I have a habit of doing the wrong thing just to quiet its voice again.” Felicity choked, her ribs jumping to catch the air instead of verging onto panic. “I don't know what's wrong with me... what's so fucking wrong with me that not even my own body believes I can do this -"

It was as if the admission unscrewed the last of the bolts to her emotions, and Oliver watched as it all came crashing down. Her ocean filled gaze slowly turned from the floor to meet with his, and the next of her words were spoken with such unprocessed honesty and torment - Oliver felt his centre of gravity plummet.

“I..." she cried almost inaudibly, "... am in, _a lot_ of pain.”

The single tear that had been edging on the outer corner of her eye finally let go at the confession, and Oliver grabbed tightly at the bed sheets to stop his hands from reaching out to wipe it away. He wanted to take it all away. 

“... And I don’t want to be anymore, I have to - I have to get out of here. All of it - I have to,” Her words a chain of incoherence while her hands were tied into fists and her legs tucked beneath her chin. “I don’t -” Felicity whimpered. “I’ve done this too many times to know that I won’t be able to walk away from it the next..."

Oliver just stayed crouched there, offering his quiet support until her breathing slowed. She wasn’t going into a panic episode so he wasn’t sure if touching her now would be of any help.

“You don’t have to stay here, Felicity.” Reminding her of his still standing invitation, but when he tried reaching for her gaze again - the whimpering blonde began to shake her head fervently at him.

“No, no - I, you have to stay aw…” The fear from before returned immediately from the edges of her sapphires and began to crawl over her entire feature.

“What. What is it that you’re so afraid of Felicity?” Oliver pleaded with her gently, but his blonde client only continued to look at him like... like if he was somehow already a ghost.

It reminded him of how she looked at him back at the hospital yesterday, and he hated it. But Oliver had a feeling that no matter how hard he tried, she would always look at him like that. She was done for tonight, and Oliver knew she was burnt out - but he also knew that when tomorrow came, there was a chance that Felicity might wipe out this memory just like she did back in L.A.

It was then that he realized why she'd really told him any of this in the first place. _She didn't want to do this anymore._  Hide, erase, and regress. And whatever that was fighting against her urge to ask for help wasn't as strong as her anymore. Her will to live burned courageously in front of him like soft ember, and in that moment, he wanted nothing more than to see it go up in flames.  

Their breathes the loudest thing in the room, Oliver was hesitant to break out of their makeshift amber before he slowly moved himself closer until the tips of her cold feet pressed against his chest. “If I've learned anything on this football of a planet is that we're all capable of adapting.To abuse, neglect… to horrors that people don’t even want to think about,” Oliver uttered softly. “...I don't know about what has happened before but, but I think you’re too afraid to be scared – and you can’t believe that.” He said, reaching out his hand to gently turn her stubborn chin to face his. "You don’t have to hide yourself from me, Felicity. _This,_ isn't something you have to do alone.”

“Do you hear me, Felicity Smoak? You’re _not_ alone. Not anymore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Felicity did not relapse at the party, but almost did. ("...from the street lights and her body left unsatisfied.")  
> 2\. Next chapter explores Oliver and Felicity's time at the cabin 
> 
> What did you think of the chapter? I'd love to know below or at maverickyoung.tumblr.com. x


	10. Unsteady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> X Ambassadors - Unsteady - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MklKTJ5JoKg

   

Felicity was a deep sleeper, he’d learned that whilst touring with her. Any flat or potentially soft surface was free game as he’s witnessed it first hand - from worn out folding chairs to stiff metal handrails, Felicity could plant her head right on it and become dead to the world within seconds.

Oliver knew that part of it was because she was exhausted quite literally all the time, and with the look of her schedule - he couldn’t blame her. But there was always a part of him that wondered about how natural the act had seemed for her, as if it was some age old habit she’s lived with for so long - she’s forgotten she no longer needed it.

But she looked so unprecedentedly peaceful like this, with her wild curls tamed under a charcoal beanie and the weight of her head leaned up against the passenger seat window. She looked almost… relaxed. Even her brows weren’t furrowed like they usually would when she drifted into deep slumber.

He should’ve really kept his eyes on the road instead, but as it was six A.M. in the middle of nowhere - his car was the only one in sight for miles. Oliver had thought maybe Felicity would appreciate being woken up to see the morning sunrise, but looking back at her almost amusedly grumpy mood when they first landed in Tennessee in the middle of the night, he couldn’t help but to leave her be. Besides, she was here to rest.

 

…

 

Felicity was woken by rays of white light that she swore could’ve blinded her.

“Mhmm,” the blonde softly groaned, her hands reaching out to cover her face from the invasive source of vision blocker.

“Hey, good timing. We’re here.” Felicity heard distantly.

Slowly, the blonde pried open her sensitive lids to find a strain in her neck and an enchanting view of the Tennessee Smoky Mountains.

Her eyes have only started to take in the brand new sight before her as Oliver pulled the Audi into a private clearing surrounded by endless rows of old oak and pine, where amidst of it all - stood a two story cabin that took her cool breath away. The wood could use some refurnishing, but the place spoke of character and modesty and before she knew it, her limbs awoke and uncharacteristically hurried themselves out of the car.

The air was the first thing she noticed when she shut the car door. Having travelled to every capital around the developed world, the pollution have all started to smell the same. The air here, however, lacked the aftertaste of the usual plastic and fume - leaving behind only the scent of woodsy tree bark and fresh pine needles. The kind she’s only read about.

“This is… really nice,” Felicity remarked, her voice in awe of her new surroundings. Turning around the blonde was met with calm blue eyes and two hands full of luggage. In the past, Felicity has had futile attempts of holding her own baggage, with Oliver either plainly ignoring the insistent tapping on his arm or the grabby motions she’d try afterwards. After two years, the blonde has decided not to be bothered with it anymore, her slight annoyance only demonstrated by the more dramatic than necessary sigh she’d let out before returning her admiring gaze towards the cabin.

“Why Tennessee?” Felicity asked as they made their way towards the house, her light steps in sync with his heavier ones. Oliver didn’t answer right away, but that’d never bothered him when the tables turned - and neither did it her. They tend to find understanding between those silences anyway.

When he eventually spoke, there was scar tissue in between the syllables of his words, and his voice was a fondful kind of quiet, almost as if he had spoken any louder - the memory would've been taken from him.

“... Was my mother’s, born and raised 12 miles from here. Though she’d always been a city girl at heart - flew to Starling the moment she graduated.” Shaking his head slightly, a small smile of nostalgia found its way to his lips. “This was the closest thing to rural Tennessee she had us visit each year.”

 

...

 

It was like entering a makeshift modern mansion in the middle of the woods, Felicity had to take a good second to wrap her mind around how different the inside of the place was from the quirky establishment she thought she was about to walk into.

With glass covered walls and low lighting, the space was furnished prestigiously enough that even Waller might approve. Contemporary paintings hung around the halls and even from the front entrance, she could feel the hollow echo due to the lack of furniture and the abundant amount of widescreen TVs and sound systems that looked clearly out of place from what was supposed to be a camp cabin in the mountains.

Seeming to have sensed her confusion, Oliver explained simply. “Like I said. She’d always been a city girl.”

 

...

 

She woke up an entire day later - hoping at some point her half conscious body took it upon itself to empty her bladder. The room she’d apparently chosen was on the side of the house, with its walls covered in glass, and so from any angle, she could see the expanse of the endless forest and signs of the approaching season. Suddenly feeling chilly, the blonde looked around the empty space for her suitcase to find it tidily placed with her bag in the just as empty closet.

Felicity wasn’t exactly made aware of where they’d be going when she surprised both herself and Oliver by standing in front of his car the morning after - with her carry on suitcase and a timid shrug when he saw her. It was only now as she started to unpack her clothes that she began to realize a shawl blanket was probably not the best choice of wear for living in the mountains in the midst of November.

She had never been fond of winter. 

Wrapping herself with the woven red blanket anyway, the blonde tipped toed down the cold tiles of the staircase to find herself in front of four different hallways and another flight of stairs down to which she’d assumed to be the basement.

Following her instinct, she took the nearest hallway down that led to an open kitchen and living area. It was the only place she remembered him showing her yesterday morning before she started yawning profusely. And although the room was empty, her daily prescriptions were laid out neatly on top of the kitchen counter along with a jug of water.

After swallowing the last of her pills, Felicity carried on out of the kitchen, determined to make this self guided house tour a much needed time for exploration.

She came across two bathrooms and an oversized coat closet before she found herself back to the front entrance. Next to it was a closed double door that screamed for her to be opened.

It was her favourite room.

Furniture came at last in the form of two contemporary sofas, and the walls without windows were beautifully built in as book shelves. Stepping further in, she saw that underneath the 72 inch screen was a refurbished fireplace that was surprisingly not electrical - or fake. But what had made her stop her steps in the first place was the grand black piano in the middle of the room.

Felicity has had the pleasure of playing on many grand pianos from hotels and studios to venues, but here was a six feet concert piano in the middle of nowhere that belonged in someone’s home - that belonged _to_ someone. All of the sudden there was a strange desire that rose like bile inside her to which she quickly swallowed. That underlying feeling of loss and want - to have something... _anything_ , to call her own.

The backs of her exposed skin prickled at the sudden wind that came through from the opened front door. Her thoughts shaken away, Felicity walked back out to see a vested Oliver taking off his boots at the entrance and before she could even make a sound, her bodyguard - being stupidly attuned to his surroundings, turned right around and met her gaze.

“I see you’ve found the secret room.”

“It’s right by the front door.”

“People tend not to look.”

“... So am I hallucinating or do you actually have a concert piano in the middle of the room - in a mountain cabin.”

Oliver huffed a quiet chuckle before nodding towards the centre piece, “You wanna play?... It hasn’t been tuned in a while but…”

Felicity proved him right when she let her fingers press down lightly to her favourite chord, the E minor sounding much flatter - and even more haunting than what it was originally intended.  

“Yikes,” the blonde cringed softly. “Was this another one of the decorative quirks your family put in or are you a closeted pianist?”

“My mother played, she used to turn this place into a makeshift ballroom.”

“This conversation just keeps getting better.”

“I burned all the pictures so don’t bother,” Oliver deadpanned, his expression stoic but she could see amusement forming in his pair of baby blues.

“... You know if it’s online I can find it.” She reminded him. The dance in her voice naturally melodic like the unconscious steps she'd been taking away from the piano, and closer to where he stood.

“This was back in my day, Felicity - pre Google era. So I think I’m safe.”

“Well… I was told by someone who's apparently, _very_ hypocritical - to always persevere.”

“Always trying to get the last word in are we, Ms. Smoak.” Oliver raised his brow, his gaze now having to anchor down to hers as all of the sudden, the former distance between them closed during what could’ve been their most trivial of banters.

There was no room except for the cool air exchanged between them, Felicity’s pocket sized stature so close to his towering one that he could count each and every freckle scattered across the bridge of her nose.  From his bird’s eye view, Oliver could only focus on the way her small head - which came up to just below his shoulders, had to strain up to keep their locked in gaze. The difference in their height always had sparked some sort of irrational need inside him to shelter her from the world, despite knowing deep down that everything around her had already been bruised and battered when he came into the picture, as if her whole life had been spent inside an endless storm.

The lightness of their banter had felt strangely natural. And perhaps if the theory of infinity did exist, Oliver could bet on the fact that there must have been an alternate version of themselves - somewhere, where the adversities of this world didn’t exist and would have never infected them. Where _she_ would’ve never had to escape to the mountains to avoid ending up in a hospital again - or the morgue… where _he’d_ never had to throw bombs at people in the name of his country to pay for his sister’s private school tuition.

And maybe, just maybe in that made-up universe, he’d still have the pleasure of counting the freckles on top of Felicity’s nose - but not as his live wire of a client or as her brooding bodyguard. But just simply as Felicity Smoak and Oliver Queen.

He'd quite like that universe.

Reality settled in when he heard a clicking of teeth that'd snapped him out of the bubble they’ve created. And when he took a step back - Oliver realized that her entire body had been shaking.  After quickly scanning her choice of wear, it was clear that the shaking wasn’t out of fear or anxiety like he’s seen from her before - her bare feet and the thin sweats she covered with a… scarf blanket(?) were clearly not made for this kind of climate.

 

…

 

Felicity’s cloud of vision cleared as Oliver slowly stepped away from what was probably their longest stare down and turned toward the shelves beside the fireplace.

She followed behind, keeping a fair amount of distance, and watched him grab what looked like a pair of cabin socks from a basket. And just as she was about to reach out to take it in thanks, he motioned for her to sit on one of the sofas instead.  Confused, the blonde followed suit and placed herself on the edge of the sectional when Oliver appeared in front of her with one of his knees knelt, and brought both her feet up to roll each sock on before diligently tucking her slacks into them.

Soon enough he looked back up at her, and their gazes locked once more. Her head slightly tilted with eyes of curiosity, while his returned to a default setting of far-too-intense.

“Better?” His voice rough as he coasts his hands up and down her calves slightly, seemingly waiting for her answer before he could allow himself to let go. Felicity nodded noiselessly in return, and like she’d predicted - Oliver released her legs the moment she did.

 

_Hold, hold on, hold onto me_

_'Cause I'm a little unsteady_

_A little unsteady_

_Hold, hold on, hold onto me_

_'Cause I'm a little unsteady_

_A little unsteady_

 

Felicity awoke to the hissing sound of oil hitting a pan. Groggily, she peeled her head from the small divan she had no memory of lying on, and was suddenly attacked by the flow of aroma from at least five different kinds of cooking herbs.

Her empty stomach seem to have smelled it too, as it howled back with an urging passion. Tracing the shadow of light that led to what she remembered as the kitchen, Felicity followed blindly until she was welcomed by an island of opened groceries, a bowl of salad sitting on the dining table, and the large expanse of Oliver’s back tending to three simmering pots on the stove.

“... Looks good - smells... smells good, in here - the food, I mean.” She stuttered mindlessly, cringing softly at herself as she tried to reign her words into an actual sentence.

Oliver turned his head while the hand holding the spatula continued moving. “Just onions,” gesturing towards the pan.  “They make the place smell like the set of Iron Chef, even if you’re just sauteing crap.”

“Trust me - this,” looking pointedly around the kitchen “... does not look like crap. I didn’t know you cooked.”

“Told you I wanted to be a baker at some point didn’t I.” Oliver reminded her as he carried on with adding something into the pan, the enhanced scent making the noise in her stomach growl louder, and Felicity sighed in relief when she realized it was masked by how much louder the range hood was.

“Bakers… bake.” She waved him off, knowing he couldn’t see her hand gestures. “Not all of them cook.”

“Again with the retorts, Ms. Smoak.” He teased back as he turned to face the island - to which she was currently sitting on the edge of. “I assume you've had a good rest?”

Felicity nodded slightly, her expression now much somber as she was reminded of her quiet nightmares. Instead, she focused on the chopping motion of Oliver’s hand as he minced a bunch of... green things. After a brief pause and a small sigh on Oliver’s end, he removed his gaze from her and returned them to the chopping board.

Deciding to change the topic before the simple atmosphere disintegrates, Felicity was reminded of where she was woken from. “How did I...” She began, unsure of how to phrase her words.

“You fell asleep in the piano room.” Oliver replied squarely, knowing exactly what she was referring to. “I didn’t want to wake you so… but I should’ve asked.”

“It’s fine, I just thought I sleepwalked or something.” Felicity tried to joke, wanting to bask in the lightness of his eyes once more. It was a selfish act, but Felicity liked the way her own would light up whenever he smiled at her. Besides, she was about five worlds apart from being a saint anyway.  

“That’d be more concerning.” He nodded in agreement, replacing his look of worry with a small, but easy smile. Knowing full well he was falling into exactly where she wanted him.

 

…

 

Felicity's hands could not stop fidgeting. She'd seen it in public and in fiction before, of course. People having dinner in a house together. But it's just never happened to _her_ until now, and the blonde was desperately trying to recall from non existent memories of how to act.

Dinner was kept light in conversation on her part, with Felicity listening intently to Oliver as he introduced her to every dish - after subtly placing a heaping pile of each one onto her plate. The blonde kept her mouth busy chewing on the same bite of food, and welcomed the silence to be filled by the warmth of Oliver’s voice as he went on to explaining when and where he first thought of each of the recipes. And when she asked about the green thing - coriander she'd assumed, Oliver's face turned serious and delivered a 15 minute lecture on the difference in taste and use between parsley and coriander, to which she'd only pretended to understand, as most of these cooking jargon only baffled her at most. 

The green thing turned out to be parsley.

Felicity felt like she was having an out of body experience, and her eyes busied themselves with memorizing each and every angle of this dinner to properly keep inside her head. The newly formed memories woke the inner child that she hadn't heard in a while too.

This must be what home felt like. 

But as he continued to speak all this nonsense with such enthusiasm in his voice, the greener part of her became a little envious. Felicity couldn’t remember the last time her speech sped up by choice because she was too overcome with passion. And as if _**it**_ was waiting on this small window of weakness, the little voice from within soon peered out and made itself known by handing her a spoonful of fear as an appetizer.

_‘You can’t even be happy for his happiness can you. The poor guy’s sacrificed his break away from you just so you could, what, get away from_ _**me** _ _? And that’s how you repay him?’_

All the while as Felicity tried to maintain a relaxed and present expression for Oliver, the voice continued to roughly drag her mind from his light and back to where she would always belong.

_‘ This life at the cabin isn’t real. None of this is. So who are you even trying to lie to? All you are Felicity, is a lonely parasite who takes and takes and takes until they have nothing left to give to you.’  _

It was the first home cooked meal she’s had since that one failed attempt when she lived with Donna, so she was just trying to enjoy it - the blonde tried to explain. And this time the food was very much palatable, and she was almost certain that she wouldn’t be getting food poisoning from it afterwards.

_‘Oh stop trying to be humourous Felicity - it doesn’t work on him either. He’s only trying to be polite with how fucked up you are - wait, you didn't think anyone can actually like you for you, did you? Though I do wonder - does he make you forget? Or does he just remind you of her even more?...  You see how he looks at you right? Just like how she used to... maybe he can be your Charlie 2.0 -”_

“STOP IT.” Felicity slammed her shaking fists onto the table. The agony in her scream making up for the pathetic amount of movement her frail arms did to the hardwood surface.

“... Felicity?” She heard Oliver say from a distance, and the blonde didn’t have to look up to hear the concern in his tone.

“Sor-sorry. Um -” She tried to reign her voice back, literally forcing her body to not lose it completely. “I just remembered I, I forgot to take my, my meds. Where...”

“Right next to the sink,” Oliver answered quickly, already standing up. “I’ll go and get them - it must’ve slipped my mind...”

“NO, no it’s fine.” Felicity without a thought put a hand on his chest in an attempt to stop him, before ripping it away as if the touch had burned her. “I’ll, I’ll go. And get them.”

“... Are you alright?” She felt his fretful gaze follow her into the kitchen. “I’m so sorry I -”

“No it’s not your responsibility, Oliver - I’m, it’s my fault.” She shook her head fervently as she twisted open her bottles. “I forgot.”

_ '- That this was too good to be true.' _

A heavy sigh of relief escaped her when she swallowed the last of her pills, and when she finally looked up to see Oliver standing helplessly in front of her with the island in between them - she almost laughed bitterly at the irony.

“...I’m sorry,” The blonde looked away to gather what was left of her back into one piece, at least for a while, for him. “For ruining dinner I - it was… lovely and I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Oliver’s brows furrowed as he stepped around the island to meet her. “What are you babbling on about? Nothing's ruined.” He insisted.

There was a moment where neither of them said anything before Oliver moved a little closer, watching for any signs of distress but saw none.  And they just stood there, letting the dust of what'd happened in the last few minutes settle. 

“Thank you, again.” Felicity whispered after a while when the coast was clear. “For dinner and - everything.”

“It was my pleasure,” his warm gaze bearing through the layers of ice that seem to have covered her ocean. “If you’re feeling up to it, I whipped up a cheesecake as well... and there may or may not be a picture or two of my ballroom days hiding around here somewhere.”

_‘And now you're making **him** feel guilty. See what I mean? Take and take and take... that's all you ever do... What? You didn’t think _ _I’d_ _go that easy did you?’_

“I think I’ll have to take a rain check on that,” She managed to choke out of her dried mouth. “I should probably go rest.”

“Of course.” Oliver nodded in understanding as Felicity slowly walked around him to head for the stairs - her hand constantly moving against the wall for support.  

“Felicity?” She heard him call as she was about to exit the room. “... You know I’m here if you want to talk.”

“I know,” She turned to face him once more. “There’s just… _a lot_ \- going on in here,”  she tried to keep her voice as light as possible, pointing towards her temple.

It was the most honest answer she’s given him so far.  

“Well you know where to find me.” Oliver reminded gently before offering her one of his soft smiles. “Sleep well, Felicity.”

“Goodnight, Oliver.”

* * *

   

(FLASHBACK, F, 11)

 

Later, she would deem this as the worst night of her life.

The weather warning was being broadcasted on the windows of every store as Felicity shuffled her legs faster towards the 56 apartment block building that Donna’s called ‘just a place to crash’ for the last six months. The worn down U shaped structure surrounds a lifeless courtyard that’s never seen better days - typical of 1920’s architecture in The Bronx. 

Passing by streets of makeshift tents that were already covered with snow, Felicity grew a little envious at the groups huddled together sharing hot tea, it only reminded her of the fact that no one has responded to the multitude of complaints that there'd been no working heat or hot water throughout their building for the past three months.

In the beginning, Felicity was furious that no one would join in on her many protests to the landlord and police officials - who’ve completely brushed her off time and time again, but the blonde thought bitterly that at least she was doing _something_. It wasn’t until one Sunday afternoon when Donna quietly sat her down in front of the mirror that she took a real good look at the privilege found in the blue of her eyes and the gold in her hair, and realized for the first time in her 11 years of life – that her ability of free speech was not extended to the rest of the residents here.

To be put squarely, Donna and she were one of the only few white trash that lived in this neighborhood – and after that Sunday, Felicity's learned to quiet her mouth to avoid getting any more of her neighbors another rent increase, or threatened a visit from the immigration office.

The stairs were all snowed in, reaching up to Felicity’s knees as she tried her best to ground her feet past the layer of ice that has already covered the worn staircase tiles. Despite her sudden growth spurt, they couldn’t afford a new winter jacket this year so Felicity was stuck with her old one with sleeves now reaching just two inches past her elbows. But it was _something_ , and she’s learned to be nothing but grateful in this life.

After checking on the blind elderly woman on her floor, Felicity went straight for the landline when she opened the door to her apartment. Tapping her fingers against the table to the beat of the ringback tone, Felicity shut her eyes when she was sent to voicemail.

“Hey mom, it’s me. Again.” Felicity sighed into the telephone. “I’m sure you’ve already seen the news. Just wanted to let you know that I’m back at the apartment and uh, call me back when you can okay? Okay um. Stay safe, I love you.”

 

_Mama, come here_

_Approach, appear_

_Daddy, I'm alone_

 

 

 

_Cause this house don't feel like home_

_If you love me, don't let go_

_Oh if you love me, don't let go_

 

Last winter the police reported about five deaths due to hypothermia just in the district of where she lived, and now they were calling this one of the biggest snowstorms of the decade to hit New York City - and Felicity had a feeling that the towels she’s tucked under the loose windows would not be efficient enough this time.

There was still no heat or hot water running throughout any of the apartments, and God if only these things were hackable, none of the residents here would have to be freaking out about freezing to death tonight.

And quite frankly, the brutal truth was that they actually just might.

Flipping mindlessly through that big brain of hers for information, Felicity did everything she could remember to keep the heat she did have within the confines of the place. From padding the windows with tin foil, stuffing the keyholes, to covering the floor with as much towels and large clothing they owned.

In turn the movements she’s made kept her limbs circulating. Remembering what she was wearing, Felicity quickly made her way to the single drawer they had and layered as much on as she could – socks on socks on socks, and all four of her long sleeves under her thickest sweater before wrapping herself in their comforter.

The shared mattress she was currently curled up on sat in the main living area and was surrounded by too many windows and leaked holes, she knew that. However, wanting to stay close to the telephone, Felicity persisted despite slowly losing the feeling of her appendages, and as the evening storm progressed - frenzied muscle spasms spread from her calves to her eyelids. She could literally feel her internal temperature drop slowly as the overwhelming ache of unpleasantness eventually took over, and her oxygen-deprived brain letting all of her fighting senses go.

She must’ve fainted, having woken up on the floor next to the bed. Looking at the clock on the wall, Felicity swore in her head when only half of the night had passed. Her pulse dangerously faint, drugging her into a state of apathy - and then a stupor.

A small and rational part of her screamed for her to hydrate and get to somewhere warmer. She really needed to hy… she needed to… The thoughts were long forgotten and replaced by only the numbness of her earlobes, nose, her throat, her fingers, and her toes… One by one, she could feel each nerve ending in her body slowly giving up on her. And Felicity couldn’t blame them, it wasn't as if she’s ever given them a reason to care in the first place.

The entire process almost felt like an out of body experience – one to which she knew would be permanently etched into her memory if she lives through this. The excruciating act of slowly freezing to her death.

The lack of fat in her body did little to help the rest of her organs function properly either, and God, there have been countless of times in Felicity’s short life that she’d thought she’s felt true helplessness, but this – this was something else. There was an internal war that raged between the fire within her that reeked of the need to survive, and the hysterical child who was begging to be let go of.

In the end, it was up to Felicity to decide. Taking a deep breath of warm air within the covers of her comforter, the eleven year old willed herself to push up on her elbows and in a pathetic crawl-like fashion, stumped and rolled her limp self towards the bathroom.

It took quite literally every bit of the oxygen she didn’t have left before she landed her face onto the bathroom floor, to which she thankfully already covered with towels. Still laid on the ground, Felicity propped her feet back towards the door to close in the heat - and using the same army crawl, flung herself into the bathtub, which had been infested with roaches twice since they moved in - but at this point, there wasn't a simple fuck to be given. In fact, there weren't a lot of coherent thoughts that could be formed right now except for the desperate need to pee – she _really_ had to pee.

That was how she would spend the rest of the night, with her 5 feet long of a body deep within the confines of her comforter - and a few roaches crawling over her in the bathtub. Felicity gave her last waking thought to her mother. Perhaps without her, Donna could finally live out the life she’d always planned.

If her nose was working, the bathtub probably reeked of urine now, and Felicity almost laughed at her body’s last-ditch attempt at conserving heat. Her blue tinted face was wet too. They were most likely tears, her instincts suggested.

Maybe she’d been crying this entire night.

 

(END OF FLASHBACK)

* * *

    

Felicity woke to a slight creak of the door, which was followed by heavy but muffled footsteps that filled in the peaceful silence of the room. When the blonde poked an eye open, she was greeted by a warm shadow, its face blinded by the sunlight, but Felicity could tell from the way he was hovering – at a safe distance as so not to scare her, that it would be no other than Oliver Queen.

“Hey,” he whispered as he smiled down at her, eyes still warm like from the night before. “Sorry to wake you, just wanted to see if the windows were closed properly.” He explained. “You’re usually a much heavier sleeper.”

“I closed them last night, I think. It was getting a little too chilly for me.”

“I turned up the heating, but I can bring up a thicker comforter if you’d like?”

Felicity nodded appreciatively. “I’d like that. Sorry… for the trouble.”

Her apology was rejected immediately by the simple yet pointed look from her bodyguard. “You feeling any better?” He asked as he checked the windows.

“Yeah, I’m just. I just forgot.” Felicity sighed, looking up to see Oliver’s hand stretched in front of her.

Her head tilt with confusion somehow only widened his smile. “Come downstairs, I’m making pancakes.”

When he saw a moment of hesitance in her expression, he added. “And I got you something, but you have to finish breakfast to find out.”

“Was that a –“

“And yes that was a bribe,” Oliver smirked, his hand still waiting. “Is it working?”

 

…

 

Felicity watched with intrigue and complete envy as Oliver flipped the last of their pancake stack onto a plate surrounded by berries and a cup of more-milk-than-coffee for her.

He split the stack into two plates of fours, and when she finally finished swallowing the last bite of her first pancake an hour later - Oliver had already finished all four of his, a cup of black coffee, and washed and dried his plate. Still, she couldn’t help but pat herself on the back, mentally, obviously.

When she threw up her entire dinner last night after she went upstairs, she didn’t think she’d be able to keep anything down anytime soon. She didn’t expect Oliver to understand, partly because she hadn't told him, but this was so big for her. Looking up to meet the gaze of the man in question, Felicity was proven to have underestimated him.

The look on his face indicated anything but disappointment or offense. In fact the pleased look on her face was reflected right back onto his, times a hundred.

He looked like he was proud of her.

 

…

 

“You got me a… a pill organizer?”

Oliver nodded, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly in response. “Thought it’d be easier than carrying those bottles around everywhere you go.”

“Weekly pill organizer, size extra-large.” Felicity read off the package name.

“You have a lot of pills.” Oliver explained without judgement.

“I have to say, no one’s ever gotten me a gift so… practical.”

“You don’t like it?”

“What’s not to like?” Felicity defended lightly. “Thank you.”

“I have another surprise.”

“Ooh, is it a nail clipper? I’ve always wanted one that’s actually shaped like a hand…”

Oliver chuckled before he shook his head at her. “Unfortunately no, but I’ll keep that in mind. This one is actually less on me but just something to show you.”

 

…

 

“It’s… snowing.”

Oliver nodded in confirmation, his gaze plastered to the window view. “First snowfall of the year.”

When he checked the weather this morning, he swore he could’ve almost felt the incoming snow. And when it finally happened - Oliver knew he couldn’t wait to show Felicity the view from the top of the cabin. He almost cringed at how much he felt like a kid again, but the snow had always brought back fond memories for him.

The last thing he expected however, was the blank expression he saw in the blonde’s eyes when he turned to face her. It looked as if she was staring at a blank piece of wall.

“… Felicity?”

She answered with a hum on his third try.

“You alright?” He asked cautiously.

“No, I mean, I’m just… I’m fine.” Felicity trailed off as if she was still off somewhere else, her head still facing the window. “Was this what you were going to show me?”

“Uh yeah. Thought... you might enjoy the view from up top.”

“It’s beautiful.” He heard her say, but something was off about the tone.

“Let me go get you a proper jacket and we can go.” He quickly suggested.

“Wait… wait, where – where are we going?”

“Out,” he replied simply, his hand still holding gently onto hers. “Trust me, it’s even nicer when you’re standing amidst it all… you know we never tour to places with winters like this –

“Yeah I know I, I make sure it is that way.” She muttered before adding quickly. “I’m uh, I’m not really a winter person.”

_ ‘Nice and vague, Felicity. That’ll definitely stop any more follow up questions from him.’ _

“This… might be the worst choice for a vacation then.” Oliver joked, though Felicity could see the awkwardness spreading in his eyes.

“No, no it’s… the cabin and - everything is fine.” Felicity tried to dismiss before quietly, she confessed a half truth and hoped that this would be the end of it. “I’m… I’m just not particularly fond of the cold that’s all, the… snow just plays as a reminder.”

_ ‘Yeah, it’s not like she’s ashamed of her white trash past or anything, you know like that time when she actually almost froze to death and peed herself? Right Felicity? Or how about all those homeless years in between –“ _

“Okay,” Oliver’s voice cut in, the one Felicity tried her best to focus on instead. “I’m gonna be out in front to get some wood chopping done for the fireplace, if you change your mind – I’ll leave the jacket out.”

With that, her bodyguard gave her cold hands a gently squeeze before letting them go and turned for the stairs.  And once again Felicity was left alone with her fucking thoughts.

 

_Hold, hold on, hold onto me_

_'Cause I'm a little unsteady_

_A little unsteady_

_Hold, hold on, hold onto me_

_'Cause I'm a little unsteady_

_A little unsteady_

 

After almost two years of living with Felicity, Oliver liked to think that he at the very least knew of the blonde’s more trivial habits. Like how her hands would fidget before reading a concert review – or talking with Waller.  And how uncomfortable she would get whenever they walked past uneaten food trays in hotel hallways.

He was quite observant in his assessments. It was his job to be. But there were patterns of behaviour that were much more embedded in his client than he would’ve cared to admit. These were the things – aside from her galactic blue eyes, that completely dumbfounded him.

In the beginning of their relationship when he would’ve often had to discuss protocol with her, Oliver would often catch her staring blankly off into space with only a subtle indication of breathing, and it'd terrified him. Not because of how still her body would get, or how silent the room would become - but it was the way that she’d zip back into the present without warning and started to talk as if she had never stopped.

There were also times when it seemed like she was talking to someone else, and at first, Oliver thought she might’ve just been muttering to herself, or perhaps she was on Bluetooth.

It didn’t take long for Oliver to realize that these conversations were far too long to be an act of self-reflection, but all the same, her tone was too personal for it to be directed at someone else.  It happened shortly when they were at the carnival, and it did again last night at dinner. And although Oliver had no idea who she was talking to, one thing was clear - Felicity didn’t like whoever this was.

The thought made Oliver feel fucking incompetent at doing his job, because sometimes, he couldn’t help but to think that she might be afraid of it.

 

…

 

When Oliver went back into the cabin, his body immediately tensed at the deeply muffled voice he heard coming from the ballroom. It sounded televised but Oliver was more than certain that this place hasn’t had cable in over ten years.  

“… After falling unconscious on stage during her first of two shows in London, singer songwriter and model Felicity Smoak was quickly sent to the Victoria Hospital for emergency treatment. Since then, her management team has released a statement citing exhaustion as the reason for her fall. Felicity’s long-time agent and well known producer, Amanda Waller will be on the Tonight Show later on this evening to further discuss the matter, as well as the star's rumoured relationship with Oscar nominated director, Ray Palmer.”

Okay, maybe he wasn’t that certain.

“When did I start paying for cable again?” Oliver asked, dropping the basket of wood on the floor of the ballroom. The face to the deep voice he heard was plastered on the 72 inch screen in front of him, as well as his client’s back, now covered in… two ski jackets?

“You didn’t.” Felicity answered, not looking away from the TV screen.

“Then how - Wait, did you... you know…”

“Steal someone’s cable?” Felicity finished for him, and he could hear her brow raising as she did. “I didn’t. It’s Wi-Fi.”

“… But we don’t have Wi-Fi here either.” He countered, an inquisitive tone clearly laced within his mock accusation.

“I know, I stole it.”

 

…

 

Oliver came around to face the ball of polyester with amusement and confusion in his eyes, to which he was sure she would see right through. If she was looking at him instead of the TV.

“That’s... illegal right?”

Felicity shrugged. “So is coke.”

“Point taken.” Dropping the subject, Oliver turned to face the screen once more. “Looks like Waller’s... taking care of things back in LA.”

_Silence._

“So… may I ask why you’re wearing two of my most massive ski jackets?” No longer able to keep ignoring the coat wearing elephant in the room.

“… What – oh I, I was going to ask first but I…” Felicity’s attention returned to reality as she stuttered, dropping her gaze anxiously from the TV screen to the floor. 

“I’m not mad Felicity,” Oliver quickly explained before she’s had the chance to trail off in apologies. “... Would you like me to turn up the thermostat or something?”

“Could you please?” Her gaze flashed up to his in a heartbeat.

“Of course I – I didn’t know it was that cold in here for you.” Oliver’s brows furrowed as he stepped closer to get a better look at his client.

She was clearly sweating. What wasn’t as clear were the quivering of her lips, almost as if her body was debating as to whether or not it was too hot or too cold. But it was her equally flushed yet blue-tinted face that undid him. Her doe eyes wide and wild like a frightened prey, to which Oliver could tell she was desperately trying to hide by avoiding his searching gaze.

“Would you like to lie down, Felicity? Maybe a quick nap…”

“No I – where are the rooms without windows?” She scrambled out frantically.

“What…?”

“I… – I just, I need...  _no_ windows.”

“Uh, maybe the bathroom –”

“No they do, all of them do. I checked.”  

There was a first time for everything, and whatever this was – Oliver was sure to have never experienced it. He could feel her slowly building anxiety from a mile away, so putting on his bodyguard persona, he forced himself to remain calm.

“The walk in closets I’m sure don’t have windows. Do you need them for something?”

“I’d like to stay in there, please.” She responded in a hurry, her eyes erratic and darting everywhere but to meet his. She was tipping on the edge of a long awaited panic attack that even he could feel, and Oliver could only nod quickly and gestured for her to follow him to the nearest coat closet down the hall.

 

…

 

She awoke to absolute darkness this time. It was strangely comforting, as her heart seemed to have calmed itself down. The flashes of her poorly handled meltdown from this afternoon replayed inside her head like a cringe worthy infomercial, and Felicity could’ve only smacked her head in embarrassment if the door hadn’t open just as she was about to knock her own forehead into it.

“You’re awake,” Oliver stated as he bent down. The light from the hall allowing him to see her fully.

Felicity hummed in confirmation before he stretched out his hand to help her up, to which she timidly accepted. They walked in silence, her delicate hand carefully intertwined in his much rougher one. And while her wild expression from before had left the building, her gaze remained hesitant and kept away from any signs of outdoors.

Whilst Felicity had been asleep in the coat closet, Oliver busied himself into making a few adjustments around the cabin that he’d hoped would ease her. Sometimes he felt a little too helpless at her helplessness, and he hated feeling like that. It was really his only job at the end of the day. The only job he cared about - to keep Felicity Smoak safe.

 

…

 

Felicity felt the fire before she saw it. The immediate breath of warm air as they entered the ballroom tingled her senses, and briefly eased the anxiety of her inner thoughts.

The evening had settled in, but she couldn’t see it as the wall to wall windows were covered with what looked like layers of bed sheets until nothing from out there could be seen. Everything else stayed the same from this afternoon aside from the fact that the entire ballroom was dependent on the light the fireplace emitted. Felicity tried to open her mouth as it was filled with at least a dozen of questions, but she instead only turned her head up to lock onto already meeting eyes.

“You… you didn’t have to do this.” Felicity whispered once she found her voice box.

“Is… this better?” Oliver asked, deciding to ignore her previous statement.

Felicity kept their gaze in silence for a long time after that. Her brain firing a billion thoughts on how to rationally handle this situation while the illed side of her – which was admittedly a rather large part – continued to mock at her cowardice.

Taking a deep breath of fire infused encouragement, the small blonde - now only covered in one ski jacket - broke off their prolonged eye contact and begun to unzip herself methodically out of the coat before laying it out on the carpet near the fireplace. Having to motion for him to sit down with her, Felicity tugged weakly at their hands – which were still joint together and Oliver followed along immediately.

 

…

 

He watched her with patience, allowing Felicity the time she needed to say whatever she wanted. The selfish part of him really didn’t mind as she’d been subconsciously playing with his hand the entire time they were sitting.

She eventually did open those soft lips of hers, and a piece of Oliver’s hardened heart broke along with it.

“When I was 11, we lived in a one room apartment in The Bronx.” She stated matter-of-factly, but the way she’d whisper made it sound more like a shameful secret. “It was an upgrade I suppose, from not having a place at all but – when I was homeless, the shelters we stayed in still had heating.”

The apathy in Felicity’s voice began to falter as she struggled to continue without breaking into a stutter.  

“And when I, when I was found almost frozen to death in the bathtub one morning, I just… kinda decided that I would never live in a place with a winter again.”

He wanted to hold her. Desperately. But this wasn’t about what he wanted - that was the last thing this was about. She needed nothing but attentive ears, so that was what he would give to her. Silently, Oliver gently tightened their hold and waited for her cue.

“I know it’s irrational,” she continued, as if she’d never stopped talking. “To fear looking at... basically frozen water, or an entire season - but my heart stopped that night and it took three weeks before I got my speech back and…” Swallowing the lump in her throat, her voice sounded like live wire. “I know I can’t control a lot of things - especially the weather. But I worked...  _hard,_ to have the privilege to choose where I live now, and I just don’t ever want to feel that helpless again.”

Oliver watched as she let her words settle in before slowly removing herself from them. It was an unbelievable thing to witness, how she could completely jump back from zero within seconds. But there were still remnants of the stirred up emotions that swam in her ocean when she looked back up at him again, and a part of him wished that she'd never told him any of this, so she wouldn’t ever have had to relive that experience at all.

He didn’t know what would come after this. Neither of them were particularly good with sharing, and Oliver was pretty sure the sharing ball was in his court now. Standing up from their huddle, Oliver squeezed their joint hands once before slowly pulling them both up.

"... Where are we going now?”

“I do believe you have a rain check for an evening of day old cheesecake and blackmail pictures, would you like to cash it in now?”

It took a minute for her to register his words, but when she did – Oliver had the pleasure of witnessing one of the blonde’s rarest muscle movement. “I would. Very much so.”

She smiled.

 

 

* * *

(FLASH FORWARD, SIX MONTHS FROM PRESENT TIME)

 

Felicity sighed as she pressed down to end the voicemail - the last of what must have been at least ten messages. It was... a strange feeling. Admittedly, a strange and hollowed feeling - to live alone. Well not alone - alone, but just... without him.

It was a new development that had been sprung onto her without warning, or at least on her part.  Instead, she'd been focusing all of her energy onto getting ready for tonight's date - another new development made, courtesy of her manager and life fixer Amanda Waller. 

Twirling a loose curl back into her styled bun, the blonde gave herself one last look in the mirror before standing up. Her makeup team left hours ago but she still hadn't found the motivation to leave the vanity since. Swallowing her usual meds, she grabbed the jacket that was laid out to cover the red zipper dress she was wearing, and waited at the door steps for her newly assigned driver.

She'd regret choosing to wait outside much later when her driver greets her with chloroform instead of with a hello.  

 

_Mother, I know_

_That you're tired of being alone_

_Dad, I know you're trying_

_To fight when you feel like flying_  
  
_But if you love me, don't let go_

_If you love me, don't let go_

 

    

(FLASH FORWARD, ONE NIGHT LATER)

 

"... You threaten my daughter -" 

Felicity was pushed into the room just as a man dressed in black swung his hand across Donna's face to halt her speech. 

"You touch her again and you'll lose any leverage that you have over me." 

The man turned around at Felicity's surprisingly well delivered threat, but only to smirk in response. "Aw, what a lovely sentiment - and you're finally here! I have to say I'm impressed with your security, you're a _very_ hard person to get alone."

Felicity took a scrutinizing look at her surroundings the moment she awoke from her sedation and was dragged into the same room as her mother. The interior architecture made it look like an abandoned casino from somewhere in Vegas - and she's been inside enough of them to know one when she sees it.

"I didn't really have a choice in the matter." The small blonde bit back with bitter fire.

"You know when I first heard on the news of some musician named Felicity Smoak, I could've never guessed you were of any relation to Noah Kuttler." The blond man - who she had already nicknamed as Darth Vader, began to speak as if she and her mother weren't restrained right in front of him. "Not until I was reminded of _that_ feisty thing of course," Pointing to Donna, "who that coward used to fuck around with."

It finally happened.

They've finally found her after years of hunting down her father, and the man in front of her did not look at all pleased or forgiving. 

"Are you ashamed of your family, Ms. Smoak?" The man probed mockingly. "Because in my research, I've found many retracted documents - all linking yourself to a Donna Smoak as well as Noah Kuttler."

"So you just decided to take a leap of faith and kidnap anyone with the same surnames?" Felicity questioned condescendingly, hoping to drag out this conversation as long as possible. 

"Why do you think it's taken me this long? I had to be sure of course. After all, I do have 127 million to collect from him." 

"Now," He continued, making his way to where Donna was tied and slowly raised a pistol against her head. "Where exactly is your father, Ms. Smoak?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. The personification of F's depression grant deeper into Felicity's mind, explaining her stutters, space outs, and lash of frustration from previous chapters  
> 2\. The story will continue in present time to eventually catch up to the flash forward 
> 
> I'd love to read your thoughts down below, or on maverickyoung.tumblr.com. x


	11. Kitchen Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kitchen Door - Wolf Larsen - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YfFhxA2JFOA

__

Despite the relentless and defensive arguments made on her end, Oliver packed for them to fly back to LA the very next morning. And while he ensured her, time and time again that this was fine - that they could just find another place to stay for the rest of the week, it was no surprise to the either of them that Felicity wasn’t going to be having any of it.

“... I didn’t say any of that to convince you to leave the cabin you know.”

“I know.” Oliver affirmed as he purposefully continued his steps down the airstair, leaving his client behind to play catch up.

“So I don’t see why -”

“Fe-li-ci-ty,” Oliver let out throatily, drawing out the syllables of her name as his eyes fell close - partly due to the sudden exposure of sunlight. His voice and limbs still strained from the last seven hours spent trying to fit into the row side seat of a commercial flight.

“I would’ve gotten used to the cold.” Felicity contended quietly.

“You shouldn’t have to.” Oliver replied firmly before blinking away his groggy look in exchange for a more professional one as he stood on a step beneath hers, and turned to offer his hand as she placed her UGG boots down on the tarmac of the Los Angeles Airport.

It was a domestic flight so going through customs wasn’t necessary. Still, Felicity never liked flying, especially if it was commercial. Not due to any trivial reasons, obviously - or even because of the paparazzi, as Waller had always made sure that her departure, arrival and everything in between was as discrete, quiet and private as possible. She just didn’t like being exposed to any more uncontrollable elements in general, like being placed in a metal flying box with a bunch of strangers up in the air. It really made her international tours difficult to say the least.

However, since Oliver booked a last minute flight and didn’t inform Waller, their only option was this. But obviously a few people who were working at the airline spotted her out immediately, and took it upon themselves to make sure that her arrival in L.A. would be as smooth as she was used to. That was why she was stepping off the plane before everyone else, to one of the airline’s affiliated cars awaiting to drive them away to a separate location to meet their driver.

The driver-escort was a friendly looking man, having gotten out of the car to inform them that baggage claim had already gotten their stuff placed in the trunk before walking back to open the car door. Felicity watched on and almost rolled her eyes as Oliver subtly beat him to it, and stood there motionlessly until she stepped in.

 

...

 

Her face was leaned against the car window when he settled in beside her. Like a side portrait too personal to frame, her gaze was the only thing that moved as she pensively observed the commotion of the airport apron - before whispering something under her breath that made his own stop immediately.

“... It was nice.” Felicity slipped out, her words almost completely drowned out by the start of the car engine, so much so that the blonde must’ve thought she'd only imagined it - until she felt his body turn towards hers with a pair of searing eyes that she knew would burn right into hers - if she'd only dared to look back. And she did.

There was a long pause in which the hustle and bustle of crowded passengers and plane engines faded into nothing more than background music, while the trapped air within the confines of the backseat weighted with each slowed and recycled breath. For a real moment, Oliver found affinity within the scars of her eyes. "It was.” He uttered just as quietly, his high tides pulled further in by a moon he was waiting patiently to recognize - keeping them both prisoners of any movement.

There was gratitude in her eyes, but just as much, a heavy wave of sadness washed over them and covered it all. The woeful smile she gave him lingered like an after image, even after she took herself out of the bubble. And then, the moment was gone. 

"Back to the old grind.” Felicity joked softly when her inner mind won out, and demanded her to severe the ties their waves were making. The deep dejection behind her unconcerned tone only made the joke more literal than they'd both care to admit. But Oliver took the cue anyway, and with a hard blink, shifted back into his well-practiced solemn expression.

“We still have 3 days left,” he reminded her. “And there are a lot of places we could stay on the outskirts of Los Angeles.”

Turning her head away from his, her sigh sounded almost as exhausted as she looked. “They’ll find me, they always do.” 

“Waller’s taking care of that,” Oliver assured firmly. 

“… We should go talk to her, tell her we’re back early.” Felicity thought out loud before turning her head to face him once more, uncertainty painting over her freckled face.

Turning his hand so his palm was faced up and laid between where they sat, Oliver turned his eyes away from her lowered head and waited, until the blonde found herself reaching instinctively for it in silence. Oliver felt the fading of her unease as she slowly lost herself in the meaningless patterns her cold fingers traced. And he let her, keeping his hand opened until she got her fix.

 

...

 

“Felicity, you’re looking much better. I assume you’ve had a good rest?”

Waller smiled as she handed her a glass of lemon water before taking a seat across from them. The hotel suite her manager took residence at was situated on the edge of the neighborhood, yet the nine blocks of bold white letters still faced her in the distance through the window, reminding her of her place.

“We came back a little early but… I thought that we could talk now, I didn’t manage to get cable up there to watch you.” Felicity said instead.

“That’s alright,” Waller dismissed with a wave of her hand. “You’re in perfect timing actually as I just sorted out our last asset.”

“Oh? I thought that we should talk about the Verdant tour first,” The blonde began, her hands clutched together to keep from twitching again. “I… I don’t know if I can continue Amanda…”

“The rest of the tour has been put on hiatus - I’ve already arranged for it. It’s out there too, mentioned it on the Tonight Show. “

“Oh. Uh… how – how did people take it.”

“Well the tickets have all been refunded, we lost a lot, obviously. And Twitter has been trending you for the past week.”

That’s always lovely.

Waller continued, turning her laptop screen to face the blonde. “Nothing to worry about though, I’ve already compiled a new list of projects for you that requires less travel to choose from –“

“Amanda I… I was actually thinking maybe uh… maybe I could extend my break for a little while longer.” Felicity managed to stammer out before shutting her eyes, only partly out of cringe. 

“I see,” The dark brunette slanted her head in contemplation before folding close her MacBook. “For how long were you thinking?”

“I don’t know, I just… I just don’t think I’m ready to come back yet.” Felicity revealed truthfully for once, her eyes darting away as she lowered her head.

Oliver sat in silence beside the blonde and watched as Waller sat up straighter whilst his client subtly did the opposite. He never understood these conversations. The only thing he knew for sure was that there were far too many implications behind every line exchanged. Waller knew so much more about her than him – than anyone. It was times like these that he often wondered why she was the person Felicity chose.

 “Well I’ll have to push that asset I was talking about back a little,” Waller explained with ease, having seemingly made up her mind on something. “But since you don’t have anything concrete planned as of now… it should be doable.”

_ ‘Five bucks says I’m right about where she’s going with this.’ _

“So where are you planning to stay during this… break?” Waller asked, keeping her tone casual.

“I uh, I don’t know.” Felicity shrugged in between the chewing of her lips, her head spinning with thoughts while trying her hardest not to consider the point made by _its_ voice. “I’ve never stopped touring for so long before so…”

“The House is still empty, you know.” Waller recalled pointedly. “It’s been refurnished, obviously. And routinely cleaned – I mean, might as well right?”

_ ‘Okay it’s either she’s just that good or you’re just waaaay too easy to beat Lissy.’ _

“I...” Felicity tried shaking her head before Waller easily cut her off.

“It’s far enough from here to avoid unwanted eyes, but still close enough for me to reach you and work. It’s kind of _perfect_ isn’t it?”

_ ‘Check and mate. In three moves! Oh Lissy, when are you **ever** going to learn - mind as well get back to work now…’ _

‘Yeah,” the blonde suddenly unable to swallow the acidity of the water she had been offered. “Perfect.”

 

_No was her name,_

_No was the lion that no one could tame._

_But Faith was his name,_

_Faith came around with a smile on his face anyway._

_He said, tell, tell me now,_

_Tell me the worry that knit up your brow._

 

It was a suburban neighborhood just half an hour away from the city, the 'Ivy Town' welcome sign indicating its home to just twenty thousand. Oliver made his way to lease something plainer to drive at Waller’s suggestion, and for once he agreed with her - the black Cadillac wouldn’t exactly help Felicity with keeping a low profile. The security suit was traded in as well for a pair of jeans and Henley, while Felicity kept her cable knit hoodie and UGGS, though her notable blond locks was moderated by a chocolate beanie.

They were on their way straight from the meeting, with a strangely satisfied Waller seeing them off. Felicity however, only grew quieter after leaving the hotel. Handing him the address as they sat in their new car, his client quickly turned away towards the window with her eyes closed – a universal indicator that no conversations would be had for the rest of the ride. His peripheral vision however, had been sharpened through the years enough to see the way her entire body stiffened as their car came into view with what he’d assumed to be their new temporary place of residence.

Waller and her referred to it solely as The House, and neither of them had bothered to explain anything more to him as per usual. It couldn’t have been hers as Oliver distinctively remembered that his client hadn't owned any property – she didn’t even have a car of her own. For a second, the chance of it being Waller’s came into mind, and Oliver almost laughed out loud at the thought. This was a kind of place for families with 2.5 kids and a dog named Mr. Fluffy, and something told him that Waller was not the kind of person who was into naming pets with a prefix of Mister.

The first thing he noticed was the actual white picket fence that surrounded the single story home. Pulling into the small driveway, Oliver felt the intake of Felicity’s quiet breaths struggling to maintain a steady rhythm. And before he knew it, his hand was halfway across ready to reach hers before he swiftly retracted it - sighing in relief when he realized her eyes were still plastered to the view of the house.

They sat there with the engine off as the warmth of the uncirculated air slowly dissipated, waiting for her cue to leave the confines of the used car. And as soon as Felicity felt the air turn cold, her body shook itself out of the reverie and moved to unbuckle herself. The action got Oliver moving as well, to open the trunk for their belongings before following cautiously behind her up the stairs of the porch.

 

...

 

“It’s okay Felicity, really.”

“But this room won’t even fit your body, let alone the mattress – not that you’re big I mean, you are but I meant big vertically as in height obviously -" Felicity quickly clamped her mouth shut to put a stop to her admittedly well argued ramble. Taking a deep breath, she tried again. “This was never meant to be a bedroom so you should really take the master.”

If he was counting the time, Oliver would conservatively say that they’ve been at this discussion for about half an hour – and they’ve only arrived at the house for half an hour. It began as soon as she saw the room to which he would be staying in, and it had quickly snowballed from there. Deep down, Oliver found the entire argument more entertaining than anything else – and really, he was just relieved to hear her voice again after hours of dead silence.

“And where will you sleep?” Oliver countered, his brow raised slightly.

“I’m small enough for this room.” Felicity shrugged.

“I think I’ll be okay, Felicity.” He assured in his deep voice. “But thank you for the gesture.”

“We should at least get you some furniture, and an actual bed.”

“I can agree to those terms.” Oliver conceded, bringing a satisfied look onto the blonde’s face before it quickly dissipated as she thought of something else.

“Shipping takes at least 3 days,” she frowned.

“Shipping? You mean online shopping?” Oliver asked to which she nodded in confirmation. “Well, we can just go into the store.”

“Right.” Felicity quickly agreed before returning her hesitant gaze to his. “So uh,” Felicity muttered. “Where exactly do you go… to buy furniture?”

* * *

 

“So they sell breakfast… and sofas?” Felicity queried as Oliver pulled the car into a parking spot.

“Not in the same area,” Oliver defended. 

Felicity raised her hands up in mock surrender, which only made him roll his eyes. She changed to dress incognito this morning, with her brand-less black winter jacket and dark washed jeans - her wild curls tucked underneath an thick auburn beanie, which only brought out the porcelain of her bare freckled face. He couldn’t help to be mesmerized.

“No judgement here, I’d be the last person to compl- ” Felicity cut herself off when they walked into the IKEA diner and was immediately faced with a poster menu the size of his body. “… ONE DOLLAR FOR BREAKFAST?” She exclaimed in a whisper, her eyes almost bulging out of their sockets at the menu.

“Mhmm.” Oliver pursed his lips to keep from smiling too wide, his half lidded gaze never leaving her side profile.

“If I’d known this sooner, we would’ve never gone to bed with empty stomachs…” She muttered to herself with her head still shaking in fascination.

That thought seemed to have sobered him up, and Oliver wondered if he was allowed to acknowledge that he'd heard these slips of tongue from her now. Whether he should just continue to ignore them or… there was really nothing else he could do.

“I thought we could just do breakfast here, since you know…”

“There’s not a single eatable thing in the house?” Felicity finished for him, sighing. “Yeah we should probably buy some - do they also sell groceries here?”

 

...

 

She looked like Thea going to Disneyland for the very first time.

Oliver tried his best to keep up with her dashing legs from showroom to showroom, and her mind which ran at a hundred miles per minute, spewing out questions left to right for him to answer.

“It’s like a fake home,” She mused in wonderment as she walked around in one of the small home styled showrooms, admiring every detail of the décor. “Can’t people just come in here to nap?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s banned, Felicity.” He replied, hands tucked inside the pockets of his jeans as he followed behind her - his eyes constantly keeping watch of their surroundings. 

“Too bad, what do you think of this one?” She asked, bouncing herself on a simply framed king bed.

“It’s nice," Oliver agreed, coming around to the side of the bed. "But maybe we should look at a Queen size instead if I want to fit in anything else.”

“Good call, then you could get that desk from earlier.” Felicity perked up at the idea, sitting cross legged in the middle of the bed. 

“You mean the L-shaped office desk that’s longer than me?”

“You’re no fun.” Felicity pouted gently as her shoulders sagged.

“I’m plenty of fun.” Oliver retorted before offering the blonde his hand to pull herself up and out of the bed.

“And where do they keep all of this furniture for us to drive back?” Felicity inquired as soon as her feet touched the ground once more, ready to dive head first onto a homely purple sofa on display nearby.

 

...

 

“So they sell you _pieces_ of a furniture.”

“They sell the entire thing,” Oliver explained to her unhurriedly. “We just have to build it... where have you been getting your furniture?”

“I’ve lived in hotels for the past four years.” The blonde retorted as she followed Oliver towards a warehouse looking area.

“And before then?”

There was a long pause before Oliver heard her voice again. “… Either we couldn’t afford any, or I was provided for. There was never an in between.” She pondered softly before blinking away quickly. “So, where to next?”

“I was going to unload the boxes then we can make our way to the grocery store.” Oliver followed along. “I’d go myself, but since I’m the only one on shift here I can’t leave you alone.”

“Oh.” The quiet immediately made Oliver turn back to face her, already prepared to withdraw his choice of words.

“I want you to come, Felicity. I just thought that it might be too tiring for you.” He explained as he picked up the last of the boxes onto the trolley she was standing beside. She only looked back at him unsurely, and the poorly hidden expression on her face gave him a full reminder of just how easy it was to completely break her. And the thought broke him. But as quickly as it came, Oliver saw it disappear. Because this was Felicity Smoak, and she was not one to wear her heart – or anything - on her sleeves.

“Once." Felicity said when Oliver began to push the trolley towards the register, keeping his pace slow so she could keep up. "I’ve gone grocery shopping once – well it was more of a convenience store on the street corner and I wasn’t really there to get food.” She blurted out under a single breath.

“So another first today?”

“Lots of firsts.” She nodded. 

 

_She said slow down this train,  
_

_Slow down the iron that runs in my veins._

_I can hear you tap tapping at my kitchen door,  
_

_I can hear the river run, and the river want more.  
_

_Don’t you know, I’m already sure.  
_

_I can hear you tap tapping at my kitchen door._

 

Oliver almost caved immediately when she asked to sit in the shopping cart, making him realize that those naturally doe eyes of hers were much more dangerous than he'd realized. He could also see the fatigue behind the layers of excitement on her face, but he didn’t want to make her first trip to the supermarket a rushed one either. So he gave her the cart to push in front of him while he dealt with the grocery list.

“Um, Oliver?”

“Yes?”

“… There’s an awful lot of green in here.” Her head lowered towards the already half-filled cart.

“Vegetables, they’re good to have.” Oliver reasoned as he picked up a bag of kale, and to the distaste of Felicity, ended up grabbing two of them.  

“I don’t even know the names to half of these and you know how to cook them all?” Felicity questioned as Oliver directed her towards the dairy isle with a hand hovering behind her back.

“I could teach you, you know.” Oliver suggested as he mindlessly searched through a selection of dairy free milk.

“If you enjoy a house not being set on fire, you probably shouldn’t.” Felicity sighed as her gaze caught onto the freezers next to him. It seemed to have gone for miles - the vast amount of frozen desserts. 

“You won’t know until you try.”

Oliver grabbed the last of what he wanted and turned to find his client leaning her chin on the cart handle, her face turned towards the frozen isle. When he came from behind her to place the eggs however, Felicity didn’t bother to spare it a second glance before pushing the cart forward. Quickly before she noticed he wasn’t already right behind her, Oliver’s eyes searched for the nearest tub of mint chip and made a move to grab it.

“I’ve seen it a few times on TV but - they actually have a conveyor belt… for groceries! Why aren’t we using that instead?” Felicity turned to face him, her usually solemn face tilted sideways in child like confusion.

“We can, I just thought it might be… safer, to use self check-out instead.”

“I doubt that man will notice who I am,” Felicity said as she subtly gestured towards the very elderly cashier on the end.

Felicity volunteered to put the groceries onto the belt, to which immediately had Oliver wanting to protest, but he soon realized that this was far from a chore in her eyes.

“When did you get that?” Picking up the ice cream carton before swiftly dropping it onto the belt. The rubbing of her hands afterwards was more out of habit than a reaction. After knowing what had happened, Oliver was able to piece together some of her ticks. And he knew the cold would always be feared by her. 

“With the eggs,” Oliver answered simply. “I like mint chip too.”

* * *

   

(FLASHBACK, F, 21)

 

“… I do not mourn the loss of my sister for she will always be with me," Felicity kept her gaze on the man’s shaking hands, still unable to meet his eyes as he unfolded the paper that contained the rest of his eulogy. "I do feel betrayed, that she has left me when we’ve always promised each other that I would go first. I don’t see as well without her. I don’t hear as well without her. And I certainly don’t live as well – for there hasn’t been a day that I was alive to which she wasn’t. Not until now - even if I did act like an older brother every time she brought someone home. In the end, I know we’ve all lost her, but there is a part of me that is now lost as well.”

 

“The ceremony went well.” Felicity sat alone in one of the fold up chairs in the corner, away from the rest of the Wake. She didn’t bother to react to her agent’s presence.

“Her brother will take over things from here and handle any further arrangements, so we are officially done with this matter.” She continued on, taking a seat next to the blonde.

“Please don’t do this.” Felicity whispered, her voice still hoarse from days of ear-piercing cries and screaming.

“Do what?”

“Detach yourself - and making me do the same. I… I can’t do that right now.” There was no more tears left in her duct to shed, but Felicity still took the handkerchief that Waller offered out of respect.

“We have a lot of things still on our plates, Felicity. Like this house, it’s still under her name and her brother doesn’t want it.”

“I don’t blame him.”

“We can’t sell it either.” Waller began. “It would draw in attention we don’t need, and you’re already on very thin ice.”

“So what do I do, keep it?” Felicity turned to her, brows furrowed slightly. The rest of her face still too numb to move.  

“For now anyways, until this shit storm dies down.” Waller placated.

“I really don’t need this place as a reminder, Amanda.”

“I’m not asking you to _live_ here,” Waller tried to reason with her. “I’ll have it maintained so it’ll be ready to be put back on the market at anytime.”

She was stunted. All she wanted was to get out of here – out of this house, out of this town – out of this labyrinth that she'd trapped herself in. Five feet away from _her_ coffin, Felicity wondered if Waller could see just how inappropriate this conversation was.

“Look Felicity, I’ve done all that I can to make this… situation as easy as possible, anyone who’d even dared to think about opening their mouths about this have been thoroughly warned and replaced. And once the tour starts back up in a few weeks, you won’t even have to step foot in California for another six months. It’ll get easier.”

“I don’t – I don’t deserve easier.” The numbness wore off immediately as the blonde’s face heated up in anger towards herself. “Amanda, I’m a murderer!”

“Did _you_ wrap that hanger around her neck and left her in the closet? No, because she chose to do that. It was suicide Felicity –“

“Because I took –“

Waller cut her off just as her phone rang. “That was the security firm. The new guys are coming in today. You’ll be meeting them in an hour before your fitting for Max.”

Her eyes turned away from Amanda's and fell onto the teary-eyed man from across the room, the one who'd been haunting her nightmares for the past week. “He deserves to know the truth.” Felicity uttered almost inaudibly.

Seemingly ignoring her quip, Waller stood up and put a hand beneath her client’s chin so they were at eye level. “I need this face to be unpuffed and camera ready by four, okay? Shoulders back and head high, Felicity. You look deader than the one in the coffin.”

 

...

 

Felicity shook the hand of the stern looking man as she internally sighed, thinking this would be the last of them - before Waller came in with another black suit to prove her otherwise.

“Ms. Smoak, this is Mr. Oliver Queen. He served with Mr. Diggle for three tours before joining the same firm. He’ll be leading security for your upcoming tour so I thought that you’d meet him last, as you two will be spending the most amount of time together.”

Felicity could see Waller’s mouth moving but her body was at the last of its legs, and her lids felt like it was holding up weights after too many sleepless nights, even for her to account for. Still, this was her first and last chance to give her best first impression, so giving her legs a subtle shake, Felicity pushed up from the office chair and made her way to greet the tower of a man who had been just as silent as her.

“I look forward to working with you, Mr. Queen.” She held out her hand in greeting. “I hope you can forgive me for cutting this meeting a little short as I’m not feeling my best this afternoon, but we can go over anything you’d like tomorrow.”

The hand she offered him was quickly dropped however, when she realized his stoic gaze lingered more on her legs than on her face. He seemed to have noticed her slight shift in expression as well, and did them both a favour by nodding once at her excuse to leave.

Felicity spent the rest of the fitting with Max on her phone, going through every record she could dig up on her new head of security. She wasn’t about to put her life into the hands of another man who couldn't keep them to himself, she was way past that part of her life by now.

 

...

 

She downed two bottles of cabernet before the anaesthesia in them took over and wiped every guilt ridden thought away from her mind. The effects of alcohol however, did not take effect in her dreams. It began on the night of the first death, and the pile had only grown in numbers since. She couldn’t stop it, her mind subjected to the reoccurring nightmare until she either woke up from restlessness or knocking over some lamp.

Waking up still drunk the next morning added to the less than pleasant experience. And while she wanted to rid her face of the days old makeup, Felicity hadn’t been able to look into her own eyes without wanting to smash the reflection she kept seeing.

Waller eventually found her sitting limply at the edge of the bed when the clock nearly ticked noon. The blonde could vaguely evoke the memory of being sat on top of the toilet seat while the brunette wiped at her face gently in silence, and opened up her pores with a warm cloth before applying countless bottles of whatever that made the swelling around her eyes disappear. And soon, her wine and tear stained black dress was swiftly lifted above her head in exchange for a clean royal blue number.

Thirty minutes passed before Felicity was ushered out of her hotel room with a fresh face devoid of any traces of this past week, a bottle of coconut water in her hand that wasn’t being held at the wrist by Waller, and a pair of very dark sunglasses perched on top of her red-less button nose.

The blonde had never once doubted the decision she’d made when she was eighteen, and it was times like these when it was clear as to why Waller had been chosen to remain at her side after all this time.

 

_But No kept her name,_

_No got so quiet she put out her flame._

_But Faith stayed the same,_

_Faith came around with that smile on his face the next day._

_He said, follow me down,_

_Follow me down with your pick and your plow._

 

“I was at work all day – no, I’m wiring you the money now.” Felicity reassured her over the phone while logging into her online bank account. From her bedroom, the blonde could hear heavy footsteps from the living area. Pressing down her immediate panic, she almost forgot that there was a new live-in security with her now.

After reading up on Oliver, Felicity had decided against finding another replacement and brought him into the hotel penthouse. She was the last person who deserved to place judgement on someone based on first impressions – all of hers had been awful to say the least, to which her lack of brain to mouth filter, as well as being constantly high or crashing have all contributed to.

He was quiet. That was the first thing she noticed when they first met, and the first thing she liked about her new bodyguard. It wasn’t a professional kind of quiet either – Felicity had a feeling that this was the way he operated in all aspects of his life.

He reminded her of Diggle. Except for the way he'd blatantly checked her out yesterday during their first encounter, to which she'd decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, and filed it away as a harmless and unconsciousness mistake, rather than something with less purer intentions. She was proven right when they met again earlier today. During their entire two hour meeting, Oliver never once let his eyes stray from her face - and even managed to remain just as expressionless when she began to blurt out insinuations of what most people would’ve considered as the bottom of the inappropriate gutter. To be fair, she was high as a kite when that happened. 

There were also the dimples that slightly arched into his bearded cheeks when she tried to take back some of her less than stellar innuendos. Still, Oliver didn’t say a word. Felicity thought that if he'd kept this up, they were going to get along just fine. 

“The transfer should take up to no more than two business days as per usual.” Felicity murmured softly, unsure of where Oliver was in the penthouse. “I have to go, I love you.”

 

...

 

_ 'So who’s the unlucky fresh piece of meat?’ _

After hearing the door to Oliver’s room close, Felicity ventured out towards the French patio with a few bottles of red along with a pack of smokes. However, as hastily as her feet paddled across the room, she just as quickly decided against sitting out after a gush of cold wind came by and made her entire body stiffen.

Locking the doors to the patio, Felicity slumped down in front of it instead and cracked opened the dark green bottle.

_ ‘Already? Well, at least you had the decency to wait until he wasn’t around. Seriously though, have you seen that face? Two words: Beard. Burn.’ _

Felicity rolled her eyes as she shook the already empty bottle, before pulling out a lighter to pair with her cigarette.

_ ‘I thought of a cute nickname for you by the way – Little Miss Murderer Smoak. Long one, I do admit.’ _

“And not at all creative.” Felicity muttered lowly before slowly inhaling another huff of smoke, her half lidded gaze following the air spirals as she sighed.

_ ‘Now look who moved on real fast, we’re already cleared for poorly constructed humour after two days?’ _

“You talk too much.”

_ ‘I’m **you** , dumbass.’  _

That was a truth she didn’t like to think too much about.

_ ‘Okay so don’t turn around, but sleepy Adonis just came out and is right behind you at five o’clock. Huh, looks like your attempt at a good first impression just flew right out the window. But who knows? Maybe he’s really into debauched and deadbeat druggies - who you know, has a tendency to leave an untraceable trail of death and destruction behind her.’ _

On that delightful thought, Felicity swallowed the last gulp of her second bottle and pressed down her cigarette until any remnants of light burned out.

 

(END OF FLASHBACK)

* * *

   

Painfully endearing weren’t words he’d used to pair together very often, but then again, Oliver had never witnessed a five consecutive yawn in action until now. He blamed it on the way her eyes widened comically in the corner booth of the burger joint they ended up at for dinner, and how her staggeringly diminutive arms swung faster than a speeding bullet in the attempt to cover her own mouth from opening.

“These trips took much longer than I expected,” Oliver sympathized, an apologetic expression evident on his face.

“I’m not tired, it’s just that –" She had to stop midway as another yawn crawled out of her throat. “… My body likes to yawn randomly.”

Oliver only looked at her pointedly in return. 

“This was the most fun I had in a long time.” She confessed, a wistful expression drawn upon her face.

“Yeah?” His thin line grew quickly into a gentle grin, just as Felicity looked up to meet his waiting gaze.

“Yeah.” Felicity nodded enthusiastically, making him draw his elbows further across the table between them. “And we still have to build your bed, as...“

“You mean _I_ still have to build my bed. Dr. Snow said that -"

“But you’ll need a hand won’t you? And we still haven’t found a good nightstand for you yet…” Felicity rambled on before Oliver cut in with his special four syllables.

“Fe-li-ci-ty.”

“Yes?” The blonde tilted her head slightly, her face painted with innocence. 

“Is there a reason as to why you’re avoiding going back to the house, and more specifically, to your room?”

“… No?” She responded, her body already starting to withdraw from the conversation. He knew he’d lose her with his next question, but this was his job. He had to remember that.

“And you’d tell me if there is, right?”

Felicity suddenly felt uncomfortable as his once beaming gaze turned searching. Lowering her own instead to her glass of barely touched apple juice, she took a pensive sip before nodding meekly.

 

_I can hear you tap tapping at my kitchen door,_

_I can hear the river run and the river want more._

_Don’t you know, I am already sure,_

_I can hear you standing quiet at my kitchen door._

 

When she finally opened the door to the bedroom, her eyes still expected the scene she arrived to almost two years ago. The putrid scent still lingered as she took a breath, making her gag as the half eaten dinner from earlier began to climb up her throat. Swallowing the bitter lump, she forced herself to release her grip on the doorknob and made her way to the bathroom to wash off the day.

Felicity dreaded it. But she couldn’t very well go to bed with only a wet towel – so she stood there, her hand hovering on top of the door knob to the closet where Oliver had decidedly put her luggage. She can still see it, despite the door covering the inside. The outline of her hanging body still so vivid in her eyes like a drop dead bird caught at the end of the highest tree branch.

Closing her eyes Felicity turned the knob, her lids shaking as she tried to open them.

_ ‘Told you I’d be back – missed me?’ _

Sighing, Felicity opened her eyes to face the familiar voice. It sat cross legged on her suitcase in the middle of the closet that was devoid of any remnants of the incident.

_ ‘You know, I don’t appreciate those pills you keep taking. They keep me away from you for too long, and you **know** how much I hate that.’ _

Pulling the bag out, Felicity unzipped the case methodically and picked out the first two items she saw.

_ ‘Can’t you just admit defeat for once? Waller beat you the moment you confessed to the idea of taking a break.’ _

Folding in her arms and lips, Felicity muttered back. “I didn’t know she'd…”

_ ‘That she would what? Use The House against you? She’s Amanda motherfucking Waller! She’s always been a step in front of you, and thank God for that - or we wouldn’t be alive today now would we.’ _

Choosing to ignore _it_ , the long sleeve cladded blonde began a search for socks and panties within the confines of the suitcase. All the while _it_ continued on without invitation.

_ ‘Just give in Lissy. You can’t stay here, and you sure as hell don’t deserve this long of a break. Just go and tell Waller that you’re ready to go back to work so we can get the fuck out of here.’ _

Pulling up a pair of wool socks and a black tanga, Felicity closed the suitcase and rolled it against the wall beside the bed. She was not going back to the closet tonight.

_ ‘You really are one hell of a sadist for choosing to stay here you know? It’s not even to prove Waller wrong is it, you really don’t care if you’re sleeping in the same bed as the woman you murdered.’ _

That put a stop to her step, briefly. This wasn’t the first time, of course. But Felicity was far too tired to be having this conversation with herself. She tried to press against her hollow stomach in hopes of stopping its twisting, but it was too late. Everything came up like fire blazing up her esophagus, and just like that - the fruits of an entire day’s worth of effort ended up on the carpeted floor beside the bed.

_ And yea I used the M word, because apparently you haven’t been reminded enough recently. You’re a murderer, Lissy, who’s either too much of a coward, or a real fucking psychopath to just step away from the crime scene.’ _

Wiping her mouth with her sleeve, she stumbled into the bathroom and rinsed her mouth out until the taste of bile was thoroughly removed. The emptying of her stomach seemed to have used up the last of her energy, as her legs collapse onto the cool tiles as soon as she turned off the tap. 

Pulling off the towels from the handle, Felicity threw them all into the bathtub and crawled into it with as much control as she could muster. The bed wasn't going to be an option, even if she could've made her way towards it. With these thin walls, she could only hope that the day had taken enough of a toll on Oliver as well, and that he was peacefully passed out in his newly built bed. He's already seen too much, and if she had to admit - Felicity dreaded the day that he would finally look at her the way she deserved - the way everyone else had before him. Her protruding joints however, still clinked sharply against the tub with every movement she made.

_ ‘You pictured her didn’t you, when you opened the closet. How her head was hung low right in front of you, the dark furrow around her neck when they finally let her down, and how the rancid stench of her lifeless body flew straight into your nostrils. And you, Miss Murderer Lissy Smoak, leaving it all behind as you walked away with clean hands.  _

With a makeshift pillow wrapped around her ears and her eyes squeezed shut, Felicity rocked herself back and forth, begging for unconsciousness as her mind bellowed ‘murderer!’ until every other word lost meaning - until she believed it herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. O/F's first meeting and patio scene was an extention from the first chapter.
> 
> 2\. Another two parter - chapter 12 coming soon.
> 
> 3\. Next on 'Body Check': Who's funeral was it?, The Story of Charlie... and a confession or two.


	12. If I Be Wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If I Be Wrong - Wolf Larsen - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cchlCNlJUXw

 

(flashback, O, 19 years old)

 

The sky was cloudless the day he did it. It was stupid but it made him feel more exposed – like there was nowhere to hide, even though he was pretty sure there were no eyes above him watching.

He'd never imagined his first kill to be like this. And to be honest, he’d been secretly hoping that he would never have to, but that thought proved to be more irrational than optimistic – especially as a lowly Private on his first tour in Afghanistan. Nobody talked about this during orientation – the dirtier, dodgier parts of the job.

Like committing questionable torture behind closed camera lenses in the name of 'prisoner interrogation'.

He was a local taxi driver, he’d learned afterwards - who drove past the wrong place at the wrong time. And the team Oliver was with were clearly more blood thirsty than suspicious. The man, who the soldier still to this day had never learned the name of, was all but combative throughout the eight days that they’ve kept him locked up. During every beat down the man had received from the guards, the young taxi driver would only cry out “Allah!” and squeeze his swollen eyes shut in pain. Oliver couldn’t bear to watch at first, not until he had to - as he was the one delivering the blows.

“Just leave him hanging there when you’re done.”

“Until when?”

“That’s not any of your concern, soldier. Just leave him cuffed to the ceiling when you finish. Understood?”

“… Yes sir.”

 

_What if I’m wrong, what if I’ve lied,_

_What if I’ve dragged you here to my own dark night?_

_And what if I know, what if I see,_

_There is a crack run right down the front of me?_

 

Oliver saw panic in the young man’s eyes for the first time when he mentioned the driver's three year old son. He started to beg histerically then, but didn’t give him anything relevant to use. Oliver didn’t even know what to ask after a while when it was clear that this young father was just another civilian caught in the rapture.

The guards found the man dead the next morning, still chained to the ceiling of the cell and his legs completely pulpified from last few beatings. Homicide was checked as the ultimate cause of death when the autopsy was finished. Oliver knew not even the man's orphaned son would ever learn the truth though, as the US army refused any statements of the sorts when the report eventually reached back home. And soon enough - the death, along with many others all became yesterday's news. Never to be uncovered.  

At nineteen, Oliver wrapped that entire experience with thick layers of foil and dug a hole so deep in his mind he’s forgotten where he’d buried it. The young Private would never know really, whether if it was him who delivered the last blow to that man’s heart. But he did know one thing. There was only one man innocent in the interrogation room that night.

And it wasn’t Oliver.

 

(End of Flashback)

* * *

 

Felicity woke with a permanent strain on the side of her neck. Even with her slight form, the bathtub was at its best three feet long so something had to bend. She hastily washed up in her new makeshift bed before making her way out of the connected bedroom with a slip on robe. This was followed by an immediate turnaround when she remembered she’d have to go back _there_ to change later. Shutting her eyes, the blonde shifted her icy feet back into the room and thankfully managed to rip open her suitcase - despite the tremors in her fingers - and threw on a long sleeved purple dress along with a pair of over-the-knee socks. With the bedroom door closed and her body on the other side, Felicity allowed herself to breathe again. 

She almost expected to find him in the kitchen making suspiciously green protein shakes when the door to his room was left opened and vacant. Her tiny steps however, began to increase in pace and apprehension at every turned corner without the presence of his familiar shadow. Fortunately, the basement lights eventually did settle her rising anxiety - although if the blonde did have to admit, she undoubtedly stalled at the edge of the staircase for a good lifetime before lowering her slipper cladded feet onto the first step.

Felicity wondered what it looked like now, without a coffin in the middle of it.

The smell of perspiration came forth before the source of it all was in view. Gone were the fold up chairs and sympathy wreaths. Instead, the open concept basement was turned into a proper home gym. It was a smart idea, considering there was nothing within miles of this small town that resembled a Good Life Fitness.

With two of the four walls now replaced with mirrors, the single basement window allowed enough rays of the early light in to almost act like spotlights for every equipment that stood in this room. Which was what’d initially drawn Felicity’s attention into realizing that all nine of the machines have been thoroughly used recently – like this morning recently.

It was hard not to take note of the six seconds it took for him to notice her presence – which was six seconds longer than usual. Swiftly swinging his legs back down from his handstand position, Felicity stood at the near end of the staircase and watched until the top of his head returned to a place too high for her eyes to meet.

“A home gym, who would’ve thought.” Felicity mused softly as she leaned her body against the wall adjacent to where he was.

“There wasn’t always one?” Oliver asked absently, reaching for his almost empty water bottle on the floor.

Felicity shook her head slightly, her hands wrapped around her middle as she tilted her head inquisitively.

He still hasn’t met her gaze.

The young blonde stayed in place and watched with caution as he made his way towards the lat pulldown machine across the room, which was already covered in sweat – but that didn’t stop him from going for a second – or judging by the soaked t-shirt he just threw to the side, his possibly more than second round.  

Felicity was just getting used to the comfort of their newfound dialogue, so she wasn’t surprised to find herself fidgeting uneasily at the odd exchange of this morning. Her brain quickly began to retract then, in the attempt to gather herself for this sudden shift.

He just wouldn’t meet her gaze.

Propping her body away from the wall, the small blonde turned towards the stairs before remembering what she came down to tell him. “… Oh uh I... I just thought I should give you a heads up about my appointment with Dr. Snow.”

The sound of her voice seemed to have brought him out of the trance he was in – and as if it was out of habit, his gaze immediately lifted to hers.

Oh.

That's why.

The look in his eyes was familiar like her mirror - a struggle that she saw swarmed his vision, like a film still playing on loop he'd tried but failed to turn off.

“Mr. Diggle will drive me,” Felicity explained, one hand on the staircase railing and the other still clutching the front of her dress. It took Oliver a second before his brows furrowed in confusion. “It’s still your break,” she continued – gesturing towards the room in a rather cumbersome manner. “You should be… resting - or overly exercising until your muscles fall off. Not driving me around.”

Felicity was to say the least surprised when the man didn't open his mouth to argue right away. He was... hesitant. 

_"It's not just you who has problems, you know. Or **maybe** he's just finally getting tired of your shit like everyone else."_

There was an internal debate going on inside her head as to whether or not she should ask, because honestly - Felicity wasn't sure if the sharing thing went both ways. The arms around her failed to make herself smaller, and god-forbid her mouth opened up before her mind could even decide not to. This was the most someone has allowed her to speak. 

“Was it the bed or you just couldn’t sleep?” She blurted, before immediately recoiling her face in cringe. 

“... What?” Oliver grunted as he released the metal bar.

“You’ve... been down here for a while and -” The blonde continued, her pace rolling into something rapid and her hands clutching tightly around her hollowed middle. “Not that I _know_ know that, I just - the equipment, they all look… very used.”

_ "What are you accusing him for? Exercising? Really, Felicity. Have you tried this thing called mind your own fucking business? He's your bodyguard, not your - "_

"Did that sound accusatory? I didn't mean to pry or anything... What I meant was -"

“I know what you meant," He managed to offer her a small smile. A first for her, as it had always been genuine before. "I just missed too many leg days.”

To that Felicity swallowed and quickly nodded as her feet pulled her further up the stairs. 

“I’ll be back in the afternoon.” She muttered quietly before tip toeing her way out of his sight. 

 

... Her bodyguard had _nightmares_. 

* * *

   

(flashback, F, 19 years old)

 

"How is she?"

Sara shook her head in reply before stepping aside for her employer to enter. 

Looking down at the three untouched trays on the coffee table, Waller let out a quiet sigh before placing her purse on the couch beside it. Looking up, the woman nodded at the blonde dancer to excuse her from the room, only turning away once the door was closed behind her. She found her client in the same position as she left her the night before, on her knees with her elbows by the window pane. Her once neatly tied bun was now appropriately falling apart softly, and Waller could only imagine how numb her legs must've felt by now. 

  
"She's sleeping. They've put her under." She revealed, her tone neutral as she came closer towards the vacant looking blonde. "It was a high cervical nerve injury. She's paralyzed from the head down - quadriplegic."

She saw exactly when the words from her own mouth translated into her client's head, as she watched Felicity lower her head and shut her eyes before trying to bite back a sob.

She watched her stay like that for a while until the whimpers she'd tried to bury climbed out and amplified into something so uncontrollable and raw it almost reminded Waller of the Bambi eyed model she'd first met two years ago. Waller let her mourn, only slapping her wrists back when she began trying to hit herself. And when her body became limp hours later, she carried the blonde to the attached bathroom of the private waiting room and cleaned up her face with the best money could buy. 

"You'll get through this," She told her as she sat the hollow little thing down on the couch. "I promise you. No one will ever use this against you."

 

_What if they’re right, what if we’re wrong,_

_What if I’ve lured you here with a siren song?_

_But if I be wrong, if I be right,_

_Let me be here with you tonight._

 

She was so pale. She'd never seen her like this, without colour. She was always so full of hue - with her boundless energy, careless dancing across hotel hallways, and the rainbow of her laughter when Felicity's lack of brain to mouth filter kicked in. Although she'd never laughed at her, just with her in the aftermath of one sided embarrassment. And now as she watched the brunette lay limply in the ICU, all Felicity could've thought about was how with one push - her push, everything this woman had built was just... gone, like breath on a mirror. This woman, who'd whispered I love you into the ears of an addict's soul knowing it wouldn't be echoed back. 

And then, as if all her demons have waited for this very moment - Felicity heard the voices inside her head change. No, it got louder... almost as if...

_ "Why did you hurt her like that? Why do you hurt yourself like that? Is that why everyone always leaves us?" _

Felicity looked up at the voice to find a spinning image of her child self staring accusingly at her. She however quickly faded away into a version of herself the blonde often ~~had nightmares~~ dreamed about. All jet black hair and hurt in her eyes spitting out words that cut deeper than any wound she'd ever gotten.

Because they were the truths. And perhaps the reason why she'd been talking to herself for all these years was because she was the only one whose answers she'd truly accepted. 

 _ "It should've been you in that bed you know, or better yet - on a metal slat. Mom could've at least gotten some generous payout from your fancy life insurance."  _She voiced without mockery, just simply saying what she'd been thinking all along.

_"She'll never dance again, you know. She'll leave you like dad did, and mom when you got on a plane to bump hips with the famous. They're all so fed up with you, even more so than you are. You ruined her. Both of them. And dad even has a proper family now, doesn't he? He's not coming back so why can't you just accept it? Say it Lissy, say he's not coming back."_

The hair shifted into something lighter then, and the leather jacket was replaced by an identical beige coat she was currently drowning in. Herself - a more put together version of herself, but still. A mirror she'd been avoiding since the incident three nights ago. The hurt transformed into something that resembled steel. Felicity only stared back at her own reflection with tear brimmed eyes, before shaking her head uselessly. 

_"Say it Lissy, just say it."_

Felicity flinched at the relinquished tone before opening her eyes to face herself again. The woman looked so... resigned. A war in her mind, Felicity couldn't stop her own heart from breaking over and over again, there was just... so much inside her all building to this. Staring down at her own two hands, she knew they weren't truly stained... but they were. The reflection in front of her was still waiting for her admission. With her voice box still raw from the screaming tear fest last night, she swallowed hard - once, twice before whispering into thin air the most buried, and yet honest truth. 

_"He's not coming back."_

The woman faded back into the dark hair, and as if she had never left - the pained teen continued on. Felicity couldn't look away, she couldn't do anything to stop it... she was... frozen. 

_ "Your hands just keep wreaking havoc don't they. God, if only everyone else just knew how ugly you truly were. You take everything good away from us - from them, EVERYTHING. And those few who've pitied you too have realized that you're just not worth saving. If you just never existed, mom would've never ended up like this - dad would've never left her. And Charlie... Charlie would've never had to meet you -" _

"Who let you in here?"

"... I" Felicity turned towards the woman by the door while her gaze kept to the floor - still unable to meet her eyes. 

"... What's that out your nose - are you sniffing in here?" The woman questioned as she came closer to search her face, which only made the blonde back away and before she could even move her head to deny it, Mrs. Richards already pressed the call button and began to pull her away from the bed. 

"You - YOU murderer. How dare you?" She spat angrily, pushing her finger against the center of her chest with every word until the blonde fell backwards against the glass door. "Get her out of here, someone get this crackhead away from my daughter!"

 

(End Of Flashback)

* * *

 

"Something else on your mind?" 

They were just about finished with this week's appointment when Dr. Snow decided to ask about the more than usual disconnectedness from Felicity. To which the blonde quickly dismissed, not to the psychiatrist's surprise. 

"No, no. Just... things, in here." Felicity mumbled, pointing to her head.

"Well, I tend to be the one people come to so they can talk about it." Dr. Snow smiled kindly back at her client, waiting patiently for a response of any kind. When the silence began to drag on, she continued slowly. "I know you've told me about taking a break from work," the brunette offered. "So - tell me more about how life has been without."

"I've been living in The House, for now." Felicity shrugged slightly. 

"The House?" 

"The one in Ivy Town." The blonde explained with eyes lowered towards her hands, which were beginning to pick at each other. 

" _The_ House?" Caitlin's brows furrowed in confusion before a thought dawned her realization. "... Oh, I see." 

"It's just for a while." Her client whispered while shaking her head. Caitlin wondered if she was just trying to convince herself instead. Speaking of convincing...

"And Mr. Queen?" 

"What... what about him?" Felicity immediately rebuffed, her defenses on guard as clear as day. Caitlin's hands slowly reached out to separate her clients', noting mentally that the blonde hadn't noticed her fingers scratching her wrists erratically at the mention of his name. Once she pulled back, Felicity kept her hands in fists at her sides instead. Most of her knuckles were covered by the skirt of her dress, but Caitlin knew they were all as pale as snow no matter the angle. Waller wasn't going to like her update, she'd thought. 

"I assume he's been living there with you, anything you'd like to share in regards to him perhaps?"

Caitlin watched as her client bit her lips and shrugged inwardly. 

"He's... a fine head of security. Nothing to complain about."

Caitlin tilted her head to that. "That wasn't what I meant, Felicity."

There usually wasn't a lot she could get out of these conversations verbally, as it was always in the way her client's body responded to her questions that helped her see better into her current state of mind. She was even more withdrawn today than usual, which was saying a lot. And she looked rather... upset. Caitlin didn't expect the blonde to reply when she did. 

"I don't know, I'm just... we were just off this morning." She mumbled, her entire body fidgeting in her seat. "It'll - I'll be fine."

They sat in silence after that until the right hand struck twelve and Felicity looked like she could fly right out of this room from her place at the sofa. "... We'll catch up next week, yeah?" Caitlin reminded softly as she stood up to follow her to the door. 

Felicity only nodded as she grabbed her black coat and slipped back into her over the knee boots. 

"Don't forget these," The brunette waved the prescription notes before handing them to her client. "I hope they'll work better than the last."

The blonde looked up to meet her eyes for the first time then. Her voice a whisper, but genuine. 

"Me too."

 

 ...

 

"Mr. Diggle. Good afternoon."

The large man stood in front the town car awaiting her exit from Dr. Snow's office. He nodded at her presence and opened the backseat door for her to slide in. "Where to next, Ms. Smoak?"

"The pharmacy, please." Felicity replied smoothly as she settled inside and watched her driver walk around to his seat. It felt... strange, when she turned to her side and no blazing pair of blue eyes were already staring back at hers. 

 

_Ten thousand cars, ten thousand trains,_

_There are ten thousand roads to run away._

_But I am not lost, I am not found,_

_I am not Dylan’s wife, not Cohen’s hound._

 

This was what she'd often referred to as the calm moments, when Felicity shopped around while her prescriptions were being made. It was always a hit or miss with these things, sometimes the rare occasion became a brief period of quiet in her mind... but most of the time,  _she_ would find a way to ruin it.

 _She_ always did.

Felicity had tried some of the techniques Dr. Snow had suggested over the years, like counting numbers or thinking about lists...  like how she should really find some of those cleaning products for that pile of vomit she'd left on the bedroom carpet.

Going through the isles, the blonde came across some packaged protein shakes - to which her thoughts naturally drifted into thinking that if Oliver were here, he'd probably be delivering a half an hour speech on the amount of additives they put in those things. He didn't do it often but she found that she liked hearing him talk, a lot - about anything really. He'd always sound so passionate when he did. Felicity wondered if he talked to everyone like this.

The organization isle soon surrounded her before she could reach the cleaning supplies, and she couldn't stop her eyes from shifting towards the brand of pill organizers she'd been given not too long ago. Felicity quickly urged her gaze back down towards the floor, but smiled shyly at the memory as her fingers went to trace the outlines of it in her purse. 

_ "Careful there, Lissy. Nothing but trouble where your heart is headed." _

Gripping the strap of her purse, her feet gathered itself to resume moving - swiftly away from the isle and towards the bleach.

"Megan Kuttler?" The pharmacist called out from the counter. "Your prescriptions are ready."

_ "Still using those aliases... what a role model you are." _

It took a second before the name registered into Felicity's head. Turning around back to the counter to ring up her items, the blonde let out a sigh of relief when the cashier appeared just as disinterested while checking out the rest of her purchases. It looked like the baseball cap and sunglasses covering her entire pea sized face would always be a keeper to avoid further questioning. The relief fell short though when she came across a line of key chains. Another thing to do on her list as she had yet to give her guards a copy of the keys to The House. She could feel _her_  in her mind as soon as her eyes fell onto the one with a simple snowflake.

_"So he gave up his holidays for you... and you're giving him a key chain?"_

Felicity parted her lips to argue but was cut short once again by another thought.

_ "Do you think that he gave you that silly pill organizer, and did all of that because what... you think he actually -"_

"... Of course not -" The blonde denied, shaking her head dumbly. 

 _ "He doesn't have a choice not to, Lissy. This is his job. A pretty self-sacrificing one at that._ _ The least you can do is give him his vacation days back, and like a time and a half for successfully keeping your crazy ass alive." _

 

Felicity came out of the pharmacy to meet Mr. Diggle with her new pills along with two sets of snowflake key chains. 

* * *

 

She almost forgot there was even an attic, not until she had decided that today was the day she would do this. 

She felt a bit like Santa, or a house robber. Either way those two careers have clearly proven to be unsuited for her small bones, which were bordering on osteopenia as her chest and muscles gave out with every drag of the box from the bottom of the ladder to the attic towards the kitchen. She tried to be as quiet as she could, not wanting to cause a bother to Oliver, who was either still in the basement or in the guest room a few feet away from her. He hasn't made an appearance yet since she'd returned from the pharmacy, and the way to approach this new dynamic was growing to be too daunting for Felicity - so her mind was dedicated to this task on hand for now. 

Half way through opening her fourth bottle of liquor, regret hits her like a wall as she admitted defeat to the uncooperative corkscrew opener. This undertaking has literally managed to swell her hands and sore her arms in the matter of minutes. Slumping her shoulders, she let herself find comfort on the cool tiles of the kitchen floor. Not wanting to leave too much space for _her_ to show up, Felicity shook her head and with a couple of deep breaths, she pushed herself up from the floor and resumed her hands to twisting the lever the rest of the way - sighing deeply with relief when she heard the infamous 'popping' sound of the corkscrew releasing. 

She likened her relationship with alcohol to the few relationships she's had that still kept her living in the aftermath of. She was the liquor though, and whether it was her parents or somebody who gave more than two shits about her - she was deceitfully a good source of support until they've eventually realized that _she_ was the poison in their lives. The upside was that she was fortunately never an angry drunk. She'd never made a fuss, or really a sound louder than swallowing. She was just irreparably sad and though she'd suffered quietly - the alcohol made it very hard to hide that.

Half and hour later and with the last bottle emptied down the kitchen drain, the blonde took off the mask that'd blocked most of the enticing smell away from her and gathered the glass bottles back into the cardboard box. With her newly given vacation days, Felicity'd thought of dabbling with Pinterest and turning them into some sort of vases - but rationally decided against it. After quietly opening the front door, the blonde pushed the box out towards the driveway for it to be disposed of.

Just like what she'd told Dr. Snow earlier today - she didn't want any more temptations. Not even reminders of them. 

 

_But if I be wrong, if I be right,_

_Let me be here with you tonight._

_And what if I can’t, what if I can,_

_What if I’m just an ordinary man._

_If there is a will, there is a way,_

_I will escape for sure, I am David Blaine._

 

The cocaine was harder to get rid of, to put simply. Physically, it was just uneasy to quietly dispose of it without raising suspicion. But that wasn't why Felicity was still stood in the same place when the sun had finished setting. Her cravings had been reasonably dampened by the amount of drugs Dr. Snow had prescribed to her, but it wasn't as if she'd stopped dreaming about it - or thought about all the reckless ways just to feel like that again despite rational thinking. It was just fused with all the other voices inside her head, screaming at her to do exactly what they'd wanted.

Until now. 

Her eyes were closed, she wouldn't dare open them for fear of that unquenchable hunger to rouse and become louder than the others. So she sat there, with her arms wrapped around herself against the wall of the attic where it laid, wondering if she would ever just stop being so fucking _weak_. 

Turning her head up towards the roof, she bit back a scream that broke the skin of her bottom lip. With the slight pain keeping her mind distracted though, she braved herself and shuffled towards the small box and carried it down to the main floor in what seemed like one breath.

God, she felt like she was sixteen again holding a stash in some rich man's hotel room and riddled with a truck load of anxiety. Her body and mind overwhelmed by the proximity of her undoing, she couldn't stop the tears from flowing as her head began to spin - suddenly forgetting where the living room was. 

Numbers, she reminded herself and she began to count - 1, 3, 6, 10, 15, 21, 28, 36, 45... she continued under her breath as she slowly took back control over her own body. The handle of her fingers were unsteady and she wondered when The House got so cold as she hastily lit up the fireplace in the living room. One by one Felicity emptied each bag of white powder as carefully as she could and watched tensely as the flames engulfed them, until all her blue orbs could reflect were nothing but a raging inferno.

The sight felt awfully melancholic, as it truly was her first love. She could still remember how excited she felt to finally have a comforting side to turn to while being surrounded by the city they were all dying in, but the comfort quickly consumed every side of her until it would win every time she decided to indulge in it. There was denial of using the word dependence, because it truly felt like a mutually beneficial relationship - at least it was to her sixteen year old self. She'd be lying if she said she didn't know it was becoming a problem when she began to defend it against all rational thoughts, against multiple hospital visits, and when she began to hear its voice calling out to her when she wasn't already high on it. 

It was in a way, an alternative to hanging herself. It was also a completely different way of living when she'd realized what she was substituting... because it saved her. Yet at the same time, it was one of the worst things that has ever happened to her.

After Charlie, there was a time when she'd accepted the fate that was given to those like her; that her young body would end up tossed out somewhere in a dumpster or be hung alone in a dark closet, shrouded in shame beside the decomposing skeletons that she'd tried so desperately to hide. And like anything toxic, the thought became a belief that just kept filling her up, and up, and up, and up until it almost poured over. Of course the inner steel inside the blonde had always tried to remind her of the possibility of change. That the Shift was coming - the Shift had to be coming because if she kept living like this, she would really be dead. Time and time again, she would bring herself to the brink where it wasn’t okay anymore and Felicity knew it herself and wanted to get rid of it all... but then the sadness would be over - and by then, the young addict was in too deep to imagine herself better without it.

Looking down, the goosebumps on her skin have long died and so had the trembling of her body. The fire however, continued to burn. 

But who was she without her addictions - without guilt? That was the fear, wasn't it? That she would inevitably realize she would be nothing without it. That he would realize too - everyone would. 

* * *

  

She waited until both glasses of mint chip melted into her preferred consistency.

The basement lights were off and Felicity had been sitting at the dining table since the flames in the fireplace died and left nothing but embers and coal. 

_ "I didn't know he was trying to avoid you **this** much, Lissy." _

The ticking of the clock on the wall drew her eyes up to see that six hours had passed since she came back that afternoon, and while the guest room lights were off - the blonde knew he was in there. He was probably just resting and...

_"Skipping dinner, not talking to you..."_

His constant presence, though recent, had proved to be more... comforting than she might've realized.

Doubt swirled in her mind as she tried to define the unease that she felt in the pit of her stomach. It was probably hunger, she thought. She'd been hungry lately. Dr. Snow had said that it was normal and her appetite should only grow to be better from here on. The famine was dull, but it was something to feed the need to self destruct. So she let the discomfort grow until it became as loud as pain and let that take over to numb the endless voices mocking the reality of her situation. 

Standing up, she took the two glasses of melted ice cream and poured it down the drain. A little harder than necessary as she rinsed the glasses and put them on the drying rack. 

_ "He doesn't owe you shit, what the fuck are you even being upset about? You don't deserve to be upset -" _

"I'm not upset." She mumbled under the breath as she dried her hands roughly and made her way to the bedroom. Quietly.

It wasn't in his job to hang out with her, which she was just getting used to - a little too easily she'd realized now that it'd stopped so suddenly. He was a glorified babysitter, not a friend. And Felicity understood that he had a life outside of this, even if he had to be with her throughout her day - it didn't mean he wanted her to be a part of his.

She wouldn't blame him. 

Oliver had brought her strange warmth with his companionship, but she couldn't help to feel like every step she'd taken was one step closer to overstaying her welcome.

She always did that. Drive them away.

And usually when her thoughts became like this, she'd drown it with her endless list of supplies... which were all conveniently destroyed and completely out of reach. Thankfully, she'd guessed. 

Not for her head though, as it had continued to spin out of control. Was it her head? That was where she'd remembered the few times that his hand had surrounded hers'. It'd been so long since she’d held a hand, and before him, she'd never felt what it was like to have her bones burn from the inside.

Felicity'd always hated herself in times like this, when the child inside her peered out with an unnecessary amount of naivety and longing that she'd have to kill. She'd gotten used to it - she should be getting used to it by now. That her emotions would overload a lot of the times because there was no hand to hold, or a shoulder to lean on.  And that was fine. Because she did not know a self without. She felt it deeply and permanently, that this state of running when no one was chasing and the quiet depression that came along with it would just... be.

Perhaps it was better off that he steered clear from her. If his presence had fed her with such unfamiliar yearning - she prayed that his mind wouldn't be as vulnerable to her despondency. 

_ "And if you couldn't be loved, the next best thing was to be alone." _

 

_But if I be wrong, if I be right,_

_Let me be here with you._

_If I be wrong, if I be right,_

_Let me stay here in your arms tonight._

 

The tub was starting to do real damage to her back, and arms... and head. She had to admit it wasn't the greatest sleeping place, but there was next to zero possibility of her getting a small enough couch to fit inside this bathroom without her bodyguard noticing. Today was what she would refer to as a 'bad day'. That was her cue to Oliver that her mind would be especially, well, crazy - but there wasn't really a use for that anymore. Things changed, and she was always known to be quick to adapt.  

It was probably the new drugs, her head seemed to be at war with them since she climbed into bed last night. She didn't sleep much and it clearly showed as she reluctantly took a glimpse of herself at the mirror. Rings of Saturn embedded themselves underneath her heavy eyes, drawing up purple hues to contrast the usual washed out complexion she sported without makeup. Her freckles were almost invisible now with the lack of sunlight she'd been getting, making her look quite familiar to the morning afters after a weekend of using. She couldn't decide which of the two she felt worse in. But she did know nothing could make her forget her face this time around. 

A walk, her mind had decided impulsively. She did needed fresh air and sunlight before the tub and The House became her coffin. The voices had demanded her to pull the sheets back and climb into bed, preferably for the rest of the day - so this in a way was her telling them to fuck off. After drying her face with a towel, she pulled off her sweats and unzipped her luggage - which was residing in the corner of the bathroom now. November in California was more than bearable but Felicity wasn't taking any chances, layering a flannel shirt with a sweater underneath her peacoat before throwing on her thickest leggings and wool socks to match.

Her steps towards the front door was surprisingly drowned out by the vrooming of a vacuum cleaner in the basement. Felicity didn't recall ordering the service, but she did leave a list of numbers on the fridge for Oliver if he'd ever needed them. She'd wanted to make his stay as comfortable and untroubling as she could. Gingerly, the blonde slowly gripped open the door and closed it just as softly as soon as both her feet landed on the porch. 

There was only one park in this town no matter which way she'd walked. So there she sat, on the same bench she'd sat in just two years ago. Now sober, but just as reckless.

That was it, wasn't it. The real culprit in this scheme, she'd realized. That all this time the drugs she'd been pushing the blame onto was just an easy scapegoat.

Perhaps it was just her. What was she doing here? 

Waiting. For what she didn't know - she still doesn't.

Courage?

Forgiveness? 

A sudden shiver traveled up her spine brought Felicity back to the present, her mittened hands reached to tuck her beanie lower to cover the rest of her ears. It was a real risk to take to be in public dressed like this and not draw any attention. But then again, it was too early in the morning for anyone to take notice of the bundled freak on the bench. Looking around, there were maybe two dog walkers that she could see without her glasses, and from what she could make out as an elderly woman feeding a few ducks across the pond. 

The calm scenery wasn't enough to silent the voices, obviously. They were actually quiet angry with her - unsurprisingly, but Felicity decided to focus on the fresh air she was taking in and the familiar scent of pine each inhale was laced with.

"Felicity?" 

The blonde tensed at the call of her name before flinching away towards the edge of the seat. The sound was rough but lacked enough air that it almost sounded like a pant. And male - and very familiar now that the voice has had time to register into Felicity's riddled mind. 

Swallowing hard, Felicity slowly turned her head and looked up to meet his fervent gaze. The man's jaw and arms stiff while his eyes spoke volumes to her - in a language she was never taught to understand. So it translated to him being furious.

_"With you."_

Why did she always do this? Always making everyone's jobs difficult. Always taking up too much space and other people's time.

She should've stayed in the tub. 

The clothes she'd buried herself in suddenly felt so suffocating, and so did his presence. Her vision was distorted as her head shook, she was sure he was saying something to her but nothing went into her ears as her mind kept shouting for her to go back to The House.  

"Felicity, you alright? Are you hurt?"

She stood up and backed away when his hand reached out to make contact with her. His eyes were trained on hers as his mouth opened up repeatably - seemingly speaking the same words but no sound came out no matter how hard she tried to listen. Her body just kept moving backwards until he began to stalk towards her, his eyes almost distraught. The fall didn't register as quickly as the biting chill did, the peacoat soaking in the weight of the pond as her limbs instinctively wailed with fear against the shallow reservoir. 

What was her mouth screaming on about? She tried concentrating. She was screaming something - she couldn't swim. Right.

It was a pond, she tried telling herself. Shallower than fully filled bathtub. She was going to be fine. 

Just get up. Get up and apologize.

Just get the fuck up.

GET UP.

 

...

 

He followed closely behind as she entered further into The House. It was hard not to avoid all the doors inside left hastily opened and the broken coat rack on the floor. Oliver seemed to have noticed too as he carefully moved around her to close each one to let her through and kicked away the pieces of the rack that would've gotten in the way. 

What happened after the fall was a blur to her, her mind only seemingly restarting as of now. Gone were her peacoat and sweater as he led her towards the laundry room, just as her adrenaline had begun to wear off. Her eyes having now realized how only her flannel shirt was left clung tightly to her frame - cold, her mind screamed. She was already trembling, the pain of the cold having just settled in, like coming out of an ice bath. Before she could start panicking however, a pair of too big hands hovered over her shoulders and guided her towards a single seater by the shelves.

Hands were replaced by a large grey blanket, to which she instinctively grabbed onto the ends of so her entire upper body was engulfed in the wool. A cup of something hot was soon in front of her too, she didn't dare look up before quickly taking the vacant handle - careful that their hands didn't make any contact. 

"Better?" She heard him ask, his voice warmer than the steam coming from the tea. 

She simply nodded, her face still lowered towards the cup she was trying to hold without dropping.

_ "Why does he only do that when you're hurt?" _

"Because that's his job." She replied out loud, which she wouldn't have noticed if she hadn't felt the man bend down in front of her chair with a concerned expression.  

"... Felicity? Did you say something?"

God, she was so exhausted. She didn't deserved to be, but she was. This man before her was only doing his best and Felicity couldn't even lift up her head to apologize for breaking protocol and putting his job at risk. For the fucking sake of her brilliant idea to take a walk alone. 

But unsurprisingly, he continued to confuse her.

"Hey," he tilted his head - trying to search for a window in between the curtain of blonde. "I... I didn't mean to ghost off - yesterday."

That certainly had the blonde's head moving upwards. She began to shake her head immediately. 

"... No, no. You shouldn't - you didn't, I mean. I should... you're on vacation still. In fact, I haven't even apologized for taking last week from you. You will be fully reimbursed, obviously."

She wasn't exactly meeting his eyes, more like his neck when she continued to fill the deathly silence. 

"And I should've never dug my nose that morning. Sometimes my brain to mouth filter just don't exactly cooperate with me, I mean you should probably be very familiar with that by now... point is I shouldn't be asking about your sleeping habits or bed preferences - I mean unless it's affecting your job performance... which they're NOT. Obviously. I just meant, I know I'm just..." The blonde was at a loss just as a few dry coughs interrupted her thought process.

"You're my employee, and I'm sorry if I took liberty with that." She concluded softly, trying to clear up the build up in her throat. 

"It was a bad dream."

Her downcast eyes shifted to meet his, still doleful. 

" _I_ \- had a bad dream." He told her, their gaze locked for the first time in two days. 

His words fell short and left it at that, but a familiar sense of understanding fell between them - like the one they'd shared back in his cabin last week. And that was enough. As the unworried silence settled her insides, Oliver turned to the dryer and handed her a t-shirt before leaving with her empty mug to give her space to change. When he came back with the refill, he only returned to the spot in front of her and bent back down.   

"Can I ask you a question?"

She looked back up to see his intense gaze in contrast with the uncertainty in his voice. She blinked and tilted her head in response. 

"... Whose house was this?"

She stopped breathing.

_"Times up, Lissy."_

"I... I was cleaning today, the whole house. Your room... there was vomit by the bed, and a dozen towels in the bathtub." He carried on to explain. But Felicity knew that was just the last straw from her apparent inability to keep her past in the past when he came around. 

Or maybe it was inevitable either way, the past's inescapability. She just wasn't ready to see that look in his face - the look that everyone else eventually gave her. It _defined_ her. 

She wasn't ready for him to do that to her. 

"Nothing to worry about, really. The bed wasn't as comfy as it looked - nothing Waller doesn't already know -"

"I'm not asking as your bodyguard, Felicity." Oliver cut in, the nervousness from earlier gone from his voice. His eyes remained just as blue though. Pleading, almost.  

He shut his eyes and sighed when she stood up from the chair abruptly. Getting up from the crouched position himself, he was to say the least surprised when he realized she hadn't left the laundry room - her back was to him as she paced slightly before coming to a stop. Her entire body had never looked so sunken. 

“Her name was Charlie.” She said slowly, her small voice cracking involuntarily at the name. 

He wasn't sure how long the two of them stood there before she found the voice to continue again.

“...She was the first dancer we saw for the tour – my first international tour. I was 19 when it started… to go bad again." Still facing away from him, her head dipped lowered in what felt to him like shame.

Oliver managed to stay put.

"She saw a lot of it, but she stayed." The blonde lamented before another pause. "She was good to me. And I never knew what that felt like until she twirled quite literally into my world – with the most spirited eyes and the kind of naïve optimism I wished I hadn’t lost so early in life.”

“She loved you.” He realized quietly.

Hesitantly, Felicity slowly turned around - and though her gaze was still lowered, Oliver could see the outline of her hollowed face. “She knew I couldn’t feel the same way. So she fell, quietly.”

Closing her eyes, Oliver could feel the heaviness of the forthcoming memory before hearing what she'd said next. “I was crashing that afternoon. One of the worst ones I've ever had. I couldn’t – quite breathe properly… I was just... completely out of it. She tried to lighten things up, there was this dance that she used to do..." The blonde decidedly stopped before she could say more, her eyes clouded - reminding him of his own when he awoke from his nightmare.

"When that didn’t work, she tried to get me backstage to rest instead of mic checking. I refused, then she... touched me. I was never violent before I - but my hand grabbed her wrist and –" She whimpered as her voice choked with acid, failing to erase the memory playing in front of her so vividly. "The next thing I saw was her limp body on the concert floor 3 meters below me.”

“She could never walk again.” She tried to blink away the salt water that was overflowing - no longer able to contain the sea of guilt in which she swam. “Or move, or eat, or talk, or breathe on her own... it was pneumonia though, that... took her away in the end.”

Oliver watched as she lifted her head to slowly glance around before finding a corner to rest her eyes on. “... I bought her mother this house after Charlie, so she wouldn’t have to face the memories of her daughter all the time." Her gaze shifted once more, towards the hallway to the master bedroom. "A week later, she hung herself in that bedroom closet with a single note tucked in for me to find.”

Oliver only closed his eyes as he hung his own head briefly.

“For a long time I really believed her. That I killed the only person who’d ever loved me.” Her eyes now vacant like before. “But she was wrong, it was more than that."

"I took away an entire family.”

 

_And I have been wrong, I have been right._

_I have been both these things all in the same night._

_So if I be wrong, if I be right,_

_Let me be here, with you, tonight._

 

The silence that followed did not seem to lift the weight off her shoulders.

There was no weight there, in fact. As this kind of guilt settled in somewhere much deeper. He wasn't sure of what he was expecting - but it was too late now to turn back and apologize for making her relive this. The truth, however - was not like the dark. It scared them witless yes, but it wasn't as painless. It reopened wounds that wouldn't heal back, it set expectations for the kind of pain she'd endure each time she spoke of it.  

And Oliver could tell that she was out of her depth for the very first time, when she reluctantly turned around for the wound to be ripped open once more. 

She swallowed hard, clearly taken aback by what she saw when her gaze slowly traveled to meet his. The look on her face was incredulous as her mouth opened a few times before finally letting out the sounds.

"H... How could you look at me like that?" She accused him, aggravation clear in her tone. Oliver was confused by her words, but continued to walk towards the blonde.

"... Like what?" 

"Like there's something still worth seeing." By this point, her voice had turned to be more distraught than angry as Oliver found his answers in her Bambi eyes - which were filled to the brim with a kind of hate that he'd not seen in a while.

The kind of hate he'd also once drowned himself in long before.

She wasn't expecting him.

This.

_Acceptance._

Bewildered by his unexplored response, the voices inside Felicity untimely broke out and attached themselves to the emotions inside her that she'd long to believe were undeserving to let out. “I’ve - I've got blood on my hands, Oliver. A _whole_ family of blood I -”

Oliver shook his head slightly as he took another step forward in the attempt to calm her. His eyes filled with turmoil, which seemed to have only pushed her further down her spiral.

"No... no - you don't understand I - I killed them! I killed all of them I -" Losing the last string of her control, her sobs broke out louder the more she swallowed back the words coming out her mouth. It caved her body inward as if every strangled cry was another punch to her stomach, making her tremble back until her spine hit the wall from behind and slipped down. 

“So have I.” Oliver finally confessed as he crouched right down in front of her.

Felicity shook her head in denial, clenching her eyes shut - to which Oliver only reaffirmed gently that he, in fact - did. The blonde however, continued to shake her head even harder as she buried her face into the crease of her elbow, screaming "No, nO, NO. NO YOU DIDN'T!" over and over again hoping to drown his words out of her ears. 

She'd forced herself to remember the look on Charlie's face when they'd told her that she would never be able to dance again, forced herself to feel again the heaviness of the shovel that Mrs. Richards had gripped onto as she buried her daughter - and the life of grief she must've led right before deciding to put an end to her own misery. She'd forced herself to rehear the cries of Charlie's uncle when they'd phoned him the news of his sister. And the harrowing figure he took the form of as his heart broke in the basement the day they'd held Mrs. Richards' wake.  

_"He can't forgive you. **No one** can for what you've done."_

No one could forgive her for what she'd done.

_ "The life you lead is penance for your sins. **You** are nothing without your sins."  _

She was nothing. 

He very well knew this wasn't about him, the outrage, the strangled cries - none of it, not really. But hearing her violent whimpers made his knuckles whiten as her smaller ones began to aim recklessly towards her own skin. It didn't seem to stop after a while and the sight only caused another pierce to his heart. It wasn't long before her hits became firmer though and he couldn't stop himself from moving his own to stop hers at mid air which were about to break skin. Realizing that he couldn't keep this grip for any longer in fear of her bruising under his hold, he released her wrists before pulling her body into his so that her throws would aim at his back instead. 

With her knees pressed against his chest, Felicity's screams only got louder until the words she was trying to make herself believe slurred into something incoherent as her little fists wailed against every inch of his body that she could find. Oliver just held her closer - one of his hands cradling the back of her head while the other carefully covering her entire waist, breathing in and out deeply as he felt her self hatred translate into nothing but hoarse cries and tight grips on the back of his shirt. 

Oliver's thumb gently moved to caress her hair as he continued quietly, "He was a father, I... I didn't even know his name. But I was the last to interrogate him before he died."

It was different the way he said it. As if he was reading the words from another man's life. And it became a temporary lullaby as her diaphragm pushed harshly with every choked breath. Its erratic rhythm desperate to match his slow and steady ones. 

"He was a civilian - harmless," the air from his lips warm against her forehead as she eventually laid still tucked under his chin. "The army knew that too. Still." 

_"And you were a crackhead who couldn't control her habit."_

Her eyes were no longer angry, only shame swirling inside her orbs as she dared herself to look into his eyes once more. She knew he didn't mean for her to feel guilty about her guilt. But how could he equate his once helplessness to her life of recklessness? How could someone just... _accept_ what she'd done? ... How could someone _like him_ still look at her the same?

How could anyone?

And why was she more afraid of him now, than how she had thought he'd react to what'd fed her the most guilt?

Suddenly aware of the hand holding her head and how bound her body was to him, Felicity felt another urge to draw herself away from his heat. She couldn't remember the last time she'd let someone touch a part of her that weren't her hands. 

Relief came against her will though when his body didn't move an inch from hers' when she tried. 

_"You don't deserve this."_

_She_ wasn't wrong. 

_"You're dragging him back down with you, and when he realizes this - he'll hate you... almost as much as you hate yourself."_

“Oliver, I’m..." Her tender voice still too raw to continue.  _"I'm not the person you think I am.”_ She failed to finish, hoping her eyes would make him understand.

“Felicity Smoak," He whispered, his stare peering past her sullen eyes as the hand behind her head carefully moved to cover her reddened knuckles. "I suspect you’re a hundred times the person either of us thinks you are."

“… And you’re _worth_ the time it takes, to take the time to get to know you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the new year, here's part two.
> 
> Next on 'Body Check': A glimpse of their lives from before, a fear faced... and a burnt birthday cake. 
> 
> Questions, comments, concerns? Leave them below or at maverickyoung.tumblr.com. x


	13. Time Is Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time Is Dancing - Ben Howard - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kF9ijspj3l4

 

(Flashback, O, 19.5)

 

"Don't you have _anything_ you want me to say to him? ... He's coming home for the first time today, you know."

Having gotten nothing else in return but a solemn shake of the head, Thea had forcibly broke their gaze through the glass window to try to blink away her simmering eyes - bringing an end to the conversation. Hanging the phone back onto the clicker, she was escorted out - tears still running down her newly dry cleaned dress. 

It was supposed to be the best day of her life, and she was determined to keep it that way.  Leaving the penitentiary's guest washroom devoid of mascara stains and blotchy cheeks, the brunette got into the backseat of the town car and informed her driver of their next destination - her favourite florist shop in town.

 

...

 

"Ollie? Is it really you - Ollie, you're really here!" 

Oliver's mouth immediately tugged upwards at the shrieking voice. There was truly no other ego boost in the world that could beat his little sister's unquestioning adornment of him.  Painting on the softest look he could remember, Oliver opened his now much bigger arms to the incoming brunette - who despite her grown height, still jumped and wrapped herself around him like she'd used to.

Caressing the back of her head, Oliver took in the familiar scent of her lavender shampoo and the hollow grounds of their mansion that he'd been sacrificing everything to keep.

For her.  It was the only reason he would do anything for - kill for.  

And he did - he _has._  

"You were with me the entire time, Speedy." He whispered into her unruly curls - it was shorter now than the last he'd seen of it at the airport a year and a half ago. "Nice cut."

"Tiff says if it was any shorter, I could be the next Twiggy. And it's T-H-E-A," she spelled out as she poked his back. "I thought we agreed it was illegal to call me Speedy after I turned twelve."

"And here we are two years later. I still don't know who Twiggy is, and you're still Speedy to me." Oliver winked as he put his pouting sister down. 

 

_Wrapped up in dissonance_

_I'm sorry that I just walked away_

 

Thea had noticed the change in him on the first night, when he nearly flipped over the dining table after Raisa'd accidentally dropped some silverware in the kitchen.  Flinching at any and every sudden movement around the house, Oliver had opted putting the flowers into a plastic vase instead of the glass one she'd bought for him to place by his bedside.  

Her meticulously planned out schedule filled with the latest films, ice skating, and their annual carnival day were also met with disappointment - as Oliver got himself out of half of them, and remained as withdrawn as a recovering addict in the outings she did manage to drag him to.  He was quieter in their conversations too - always insisting on her sharing more of her first year at Starling Prep, or another one of her and Tiff's failed pranking adventures instead.  She'd tried to get him to talk about his first tour, but she hated the strained look on his face whenever she would try.

"Is this about Sam?" She asked one night when they were sitting in her room, rewatching Legally Blonde for the seventh time. 

"What?"

Thea sat up little straighter as she felt her brother tensed at the sudden sound of her voice. "Sam Clayton... Samantha? Your -"

"I haven't heard that name in a while." He cut in softly, eyes staring blankly at the forty two inch screen in front of them.

"So this cold shut down version of my big bro is just... the new you?" Thea said, her tone sharper than she'd meant for it to sound. 

"Thea..."

"I had everything planned you know?" She continued, the annoyance apparent in her voice. "And we barely have a month to fit it all in before you go back!"

Oliver closed his eyes at that, as the world he had briefly escaped from came rushing into his senses all at once.  It disappeared soon enough, when Thea's lashing out morphed into sobs.

"... Do you even realize that the next time you come home, I'm going to be able to _drive_?" Barely coherent now, her words were interrupted by choked hiccups. "I'm absolutely _alone_ here in this house Ollie - I always feel  _so_ alone!"

"I'm sorry Speeds, you're right." Oliver had tried, bringing his roughened hand to wipe away the fresh tears from the brunette's cheeks. "I've just been a little jet lagged. We'll go see the new Twilight movie first thing tomorrow, then to the carnival until we do the bumper cars at least five times - how's that?"

Pulling her face closer, he planted a kiss on her forehead before whispering comforting words to quiet her sobbing. "I'm sorry to have ever let you think that you were alone, Thea."

"Even when I'm not here, I'll always be here." Pointing to the left side of her chest before he engulfed the rest of her body with his. "That's a promise."

 

(End of Flashback)

* * *

  

He stayed and watched until the sun rose from beneath the headstone.  

"The florist doesn't open until ten so you're getting the night before's," his tone apologetic as he laid down a small bouquet of white lilies. "I know you told me the stuff they give to keep these fresh are crap, so I didn't use any of them."

She was very particular about these things - or at least used to be.  He remembered each and every flower arrangement the spiky brunette would welcome him home with.  Oliver knew that she would spend ages on them, each bloom especially picked for its hidden messages that he'd have to ask her about later. Eventually, she shut him up with a book on the meaning of flowers, as well as a half hour lecture on how to use the internet. 

That was her last gift to him before he was sent on his third and last tour. It arrived in a small package on the morning that he left. He knew he shouldn't have gotten his hopes up, not after confronting her at the club only a week ago.  Oliver had hoped that her words from that night were only said out of anger, but Thea had always been too headstrong to change her mind. Before boarding his plane though, he'd left her a voicemail he knew she'd delete, but he left it anyway. 

He'd always wondered if she ever did listen to it.

But opening his eyes, Oliver bit back the words to a conversation he'd knew he would never get to have. 

"I know, you're used to afternoon visits," he said instead. "But I'm a live-in now so the schedule is tighter." He carried on to explain, after having imagined her giving him the eyebrow whenever he would become too elusive again. "... I'm the only one who's staying with her - for now.  She's a singer.  A little younger than you'd be but, I think you would've liked her too."

Dusting off some of the debris that had settled onto the stone, Oliver took a moment to take in the stillness of the cemetery before saying his goodbyes. "It's a long drive back to Ivy Town so," He pointed to his car before pulling his other knee out to stand, grunting a little as he did. "Don't you dare laugh, I swore I grew three new greys this morning just getting up to see you," he pointed out, shaking his head softly before looking back at her carved out name once more.

"I'm still here, Thea."

 

_Lost in the insignificance of mine_

_I had no words to say_

 

"Thank you for doing this, I do apologize for waking you up this early." 

John dismissed her apology politely as he shut the front door behind him, his arms full with groceries. "No worries, Ms. Smoak. My kid -"

"Sara, right?" Felicity looked up from the grocery bags that were being placed onto the kitchen counter. 

"That's the one," His eyes widened slightly in surprise at the mention of his daughter's name. "Super allergic to sleep lately, it would seem. As she woke us both up at this ungodly hour anyway."

Felicity's eyes twinkled with amusement before widening as if she'd just remembered something important. Having already scurried off,  John was left to follow her dumbly into the living room. 

He watched with curiosity as Felicity dug around behind the curtains before remerging with a bag in hand. 

"Before I forget," she said, handing him a gold envelope along with a small ornament shaped bag. "The gift is actually in the card, I just didn't know where to put the keys. The keys to The House I mean - that's not part of the gift though. Just for convenience I guess."

The blonde shut her eyes briefly before shaking her head, as if she was trying to erase the last ten seconds from reality.  

Felicity looked... different to him like this, lighter.

Then again, he had never really been in her presence before where she was completely sober. The high always seemed to have erased that diffident part of her, or presented her with an excuse to be whatever she'd pleased. But here now, she was unsettled. More anxious. Like a layer had been peeled off by accident, and she always only had just realized it.

After being given nearly a month off, John wasn't expecting his return to be one consisting of early morning shopping for the entire baking isle. 

But here he was.

Looking down at the bag, John accepted her gesture in kind before lifting his gaze a little to meet his fumbling client, who had been looking up at him with timid eyes. He'd offered a small smile of appreciation, which seemed to have settled her nerves slightly.

"You didn't have to, Ms. Smoak." He said instead, decidedly avoiding to address her ramble. 

She shook her head before tugging a piece of hair that must've fallen out from her bun behind her ear. "We drove by the restaurant the other day and thought of you," the blonde explained softly, shrugging her shoulders. "The new place down at the Grove?"

"With the on site child care?" He asked.

"That's the one," Felicity nodded eagerly. "I hope it's alright, I just thought that maybe you and Lyla would enjoy a night out, you know, without having to miss Sara too much."

She was always like this, despite Waller's numerous attempts at convincing her to delegate such tasks like gift picking to her assistants instead.   

"This is very considerate of you, Ms. Smoak. I... thank you, we'll make sure to make good use of it."

"I hope so. Happy holidays, Mr. Diggle." She replied, eyes almost smiling up at him before escorting him to the front door. "Drive safe."

"Thank you, Ms. Smoak." John nodded before adding. "And good luck, with the baking endeavour."

 

__..._ _

 

She wouldn't exactly call herself confident when she bought a cake just in case.  It was really to be used as last resort if this didn't turn out as she'd hoped. The last time Felicity found herself in a kitchen making something from scratch was for her mother's thirtieth birthday. It fell during the period of her childhood that she'd rather forget, but her younger self had always been her mother's number one cheerleader no matter the circumstance.  She remembered wanting to do something special to surprise Donna after a whole day of job hunting. 

 _“Maybe you could try doing something else other than waitressing? I mean, until I find more work of course.” Felicity asked, and Donna laughed easily at her daughter’s hopeful tone._ _“Forget what everyone else says, and just - what did you want to be when you were growing up?”_

_“… A wedding planner,” Donna mused after a while, deciding to humour her daughter with some honesty. She’d never delved into her past before, let alone to her ten year old daughter. “Or an interior designer, but I was never good with numbers like you are.”_

_“But that all sound remarkable mom! I mean, what stopped you?”_

_“…You.” Donna said pointedly._

_“Oh.”_

_“The only experience I have is giving people coffee Lissy, Jason promised I could come back if I needed to – and that son of a bitch…”_ _Donna’s eyes blinked up toward the ceiling lights, trying to recollect the salt water that’s made a permanent home in her oceans, before falling hard enough to lose the fight._

The smoke detector in their one room apartment didn't have any batteries then, so Felicity's 'cake' became nothing but a seeping mess by the time that she'd smelt it. The little blonde had been all too focused on carefully shaping the melted chocolate from the few sample pieces she'd managed to snatch from food demos. Her easily triggered anxiety wasn't at all helpful when she'd tried to take out the burnt pan from the reeking oven. And neither did the heartbreak when she'd finally saw the burned fruit of her hour long efforts.

Donna came back from her last interview just as Felicity was trying to figure out how to clean up the oven. Red eyed and exhausted, the older blonde took one look at her daughter and the chaos that had surrounded her before walking away towards the bathroom without a word.  Felicity didn't see her for the rest of the night as she kept herself locked inside, quiet sobs were the only thing that Felicity took comfort in to know her mother was still breathing in there. And when the last of their pillow money was used to keep them from getting evicted after the Landlord had found out, she'd made herself promise to never touch the kitchen again.  

Until now. 

What was a fear if it wasn't someday faced?

It wasn't a fear, exactly. Just... a lot of unfond memories attached to this particular endeavour that had propelled her anxiety when it could've been quite easily avoided, especially given her current lifestyle.  Looking down at the purchases she'd made with Mr. Diggle earlier this morning, it'd seemed like a lot of things were different now as she titled her head at the insane amount of chocolate variations she hadn't realized he'd gotten without batting an eye. Taking a deep breath, the blonde reminded herself that even if it did all went to shit, there was no house eviction at stake anymore. 

 

...

 

Oliver's phone rang off as soon as he turned the corner into their neighbourhood.

He had a set up of different notifications for The House's security, and when it had finally dawned on him of which this one was, he pressed down the gas pedal well passed the community limit until the car reached the familiar emerald garage door. Oliver hastily drove the car into park, slammed it close, hopped over the picket fence and pounded his fists against the front door repeatedly, fully intending on knocking the whole thing down himself.

After what had seemed like ages, the door was finally pulled back and the breath that Oliver had been holding out on was released when the small blonde was revealed to him, all eyes and limbs. _Alive._  

She let him see her. His eyes frenzied as they scanned every square inch of her tensed body before his own awoke and demanded entry into The House. He was in full bodyguard mode, scoping out the vicinity for any signs of fire or persons but found none, until he turned for the connected kitchen - to which he'd immediately stopped in his tracks to take in the condition of.

"What..." Oliver's face was left aghasted as his eyes moved from the burnt pots of black on the stove to the grey smoke fuming inside the opened oven. He'd felt Felicity behind him but didn't hear a word until he turned back around. Only now did he notice the macaroon patterned potholders covering her hands, and how harshly her teeth were grinding down against her bottom lip.

Fear laced around her widened blues as he witnessed her sucking the air out of this room and words suddenly flew out like an arrow.  "I can call someone to clean everything up, I just - the smoke alarm wouldn't stop and I didn't know how to... oh God, did I... did you rush here from Star City?"

_"You mean from visiting his little sister's grave?"_

Her eyes fell as she wrapped her gloved hands around herself, smothering smoke stains on her backless sweater dress. "... I didn't mean to." She'd thought aloud. 

It hasn't happened in a while. The panic.

Things shifted after that day back in November, subtly. During the first few days, Felicity's symptoms of withdrawal kicked into full gear and Oliver had felt like they were being thrown back into the nightmare that was their most recent tour.  Stuck in a loop in which her addictions had amplified her anxiety, and yet feeling sober was what had induced her panic in the first place, he was once again helpless to Felicity's quiet suffering - until he came across the box of emptied wine bottles left on the curb of the front yard. He'd asked her about it, carefully, not wanting to assume anything before his face gave away when she coyly confessed to him of what she'd finally found the courage to do. 

He quickly tried to let go of the fact there had been a stash of cocaine stored right under this roof unbeknownst to his knowledge.

With all the curtains drawn and recycled air, the appointments with Dr. Snow had turned into home visits for the next two weeks as the blonde sealed herself into the confines of The House. All the while Oliver had kept himself busy by replaying the events of that morning in the laundry room, of which Felicity had verged upon and beyond the point of hysteria - completely and absolutely terrified of even the slightest possibility of acceptance. And yet at the very same time, Oliver could see in her eyes a glimmer of someone who was desperately reaching out towards another soul - _his_ soul. 

 

_Now I am better_

_I implore you to say it isn't right_

_But somewhere deep in history_

_Your father pulled the teeth out of your fight_

 

She'd asked him to accompany her outside on a Wednesday morning, after drawing up the curtains - which had been closed for almost half a month. Just to the pharmacy, she'd explained. It was some of the only few words she'd said to him in the past few weeks. And Oliver found himself staring more times than not, at the way her eyes were filled with gratitude as every breath was returned to her from the rolled down car window.

In the past month that followed, he had felt the extreme hesitance exuding off of her as he'd tried to reestablish the dynamic that they'd once had. Oliver could've spent time blaming himself for ghosting on her without explanation, but The House was already filled to the brim with guilt. Instead, he'd rationally hoped that one off morning wouldn't be the end all to an entire year's worth of the connection that they've tried to build over - or through, her Excalibur of a wall. But this was _Felicity_ , too-quick-to-respond and very easily distressed Felicity. Yet she was aware of her every push to his slight step forward, and he could just as well see her desire to connect as well as her need to be immediately reluctant. 

Oliver saw fear too, fear that he would decide to turn the other away at any given moment.

In fact, he'd see it in her eyes... in some way, shape, or form every single day.

Like even today, few weeks into December now, with their relationship almost as deeply founded as when they were first moved into this House. His thought brought him back to the present, and Oliver quickly stopped her crashing train of thought with a step closer into her space. 

"Felicity," He breathed out her name slowly. "I was just a turn away when the alarm went off on my phone. How else could I get here so fast?" 

Rational thoughts, he'd learned, were always useful in these cases as it gave her mind something busy to process while Oliver could take in the state they were being surrounded in, and figured out what she'd needed. Looking around, the kitchen seemed like the only victim in The House - which confused Oliver as only he utilized the area on a daily basis. He turned his attention back to his client and tilted his head as the thought dawned on him.

"You were... cooking?" 

Felicity's eyes were looking down at anywhere but him now, wrapped up in embarrassment, or shame. Possibly both, but it was the real kind that made Oliver want to take back and rephrase his almost accusatory tone.

"I'm happy to see you out and about, Felicity, I was just... surprised." His hand was halfway out to reach her shoulder before he stopped himself, and dipped his height a little in search for her gaze instead. "You know I always have prepacked meals in the fridge."

Felicity's eyes shyly flickered to his before shifting them towards the counter behind him. "... I was baking, actually."

"Oh?" His eyebrow raised further, folding in the lines on his forehead as he followed her gaze.

She mumbled something incoherent as she staggered towards the kitchen, feeling the sudden urge to scrub the black off the pots and pans - to scrub away something. "... I had a feeling this was going to happen so I got a store bought just in case - not that I didn't put as much effort knowing that. I mean there wasn't as big of a stake this time, which is not say... I mean, I know how much you like this kitchen -"

"Felicity?"

At the sound of her name, the blonde was seemingly snapped out of her endless ramble. The large hand placed on top of both of hers in the sink also drew her attention as she was made aware of the pot she'd been unconsciously, but meticulously scouring against with a cleaning sponge. Slowly, she dropped them both into the sink before pulling the palms of her hands to cover her face instead.

Oliver stood slightly behind her, and waited in silence until her breaths evened out and her head had turned to look at him. She stared at him for a long moment, in the midst of deciding upon something before stepping around him to open the microwave. He'd guessed the circular pan she was taking out was the product of whatever had caused the oven to smoke in the first place. 

"Is this... a cake?" He asked, sitting down as she placed the pan onto the dining table. Standing beside where he sat, Oliver could tell she was trying her hardest not to shift her eyes away when she slowly let her voice break.

"A birthday cake." She corrected softly, waving slightly towards the burnt circle of crust and batter.  Her entire body gradually tensing as he slowly took in what she'd just said to him.  Having been left speechless for too long though, Felicity was already half way from putting the cake into the trash.

"Woah, hey I -" Oliver caught her elbow - noticing her wince, of what kind he couldn't tell, before placing himself between her and the garbage bin. 

"I'll just clean this up and... I have the store bought one I can bring out if you want -"

"Felicity." Oliver cut in, raising to carefully cup the back of her arm this time.

She looked up at him at that as he kept the intensity of his stare, hoping she would see the truth in him as the initial shock wore off - leaving only awe in his eyes.  "No one's ever made me a birthday cake before."

 

_Wrapped up in empathy_

_The chemicals are pushing past my blood_

_Hold in all my cliches_

_They are tipping my tongue to tell you that it's **love**_

 

It tasted exactly like how it'd looked, but Oliver couldn't care less about its contents. He would never know the fear behind this endeavour of her's, and she would probably never tell him of it. But despite it all, Oliver finished his slice in a daze all the while a lip biting blonde stood to the side and winced almost comically at his every bite. 

"Your eyes are wet, I didn't mix up the spices did I?" Felicity's face was painted with concern when he looked up at her a while after his last forkful. 

Oliver just shook his head, intent on keeping his shining gaze on her. "Thank you, Felicity."  He murmured quietly, his voice strained with gravel - hoping she would understand just how much he meant by that.

Felicity tilted her head naturally in response, as if she knew exactly what he'd wanted her to realize.  The warmth behind his words drew what almost looked like colour onto her cheeks as the blonde ducked her head slightly. She always did that, kept her face hidden whenever she smiled her little smile - leaving him to catch the corner of it before her hair covered the rest. 

Oliver didn't mind though. He knew exactly what that smile looked like.

* * *

 

(Flashback, F, 18)

 

Dressed in a navy power suit at a strip club nearing closing time, Felicity couldn't be blamed for thinking the dark brunette was a madame before she introduced herself as someone from the music industry.

It wasn't a well known strip club, which was why Felicity chose it in the first place.  Places like these never drew in crowds that'd fit within her prime demographic for her music anyway, which were currently under multiple hands for the time being and not offering her any sort of stable income.  So here she was, putting her former ballet and modelling training into use three nights a week as she strictly danced on stage in one of the dingiest strip club at the edge of LA - while she figured out her next move.  She was no good to Donna if she went back to Vegas now, but wandering and waiting to be taken advantage of by the hands of labels and men wouldn't be a step up from her childhood either. 

Stuck was what she was. And the woman took notice of that when she'd approached the blonde as she walked off stage.

This was the last place Felicity would expect for her entire life to change.  The woman introduced herself as Amanda Waller, a powerful figure in the business who thought she had potential. And Felicity had almost rolled her eyes at the slogan if she wasn't already intoxicated and could barely lift another sore muscle. 

 

...

 

She first heard about her when she went by to check on one of her other clients at the recording studio.  Being at the top, the brunette easily got access to what this former model had recorded. And for the first time in her twelve years of scouting new talent - Amanda was left listening to a random sample track with a tear attempting to escape from her eye.

There was a shared lonliness she'd recognized from the singer's voice. And after an entire evening spent digging into her past, the brunette had found new determination to find this young woman.  She wasn't at all surprised when she discovered the blonde's place of work. It reminded her of where she once was, of where she had started from. 

This woman - girl, was a tornado wrapped in layers of hesitance when Amanda introduced herself to her. It was like looking in her mirror of years ago, and if the brunette hadn't had decades, a steadfast career and a buck load of money to recover from it - she'd still be where the lonesome Bambi was standing now, hiding behind a fuchsia robe with a self esteem so low she could glide over it. Her bloodshot eyes spoke of pain beyond her young years, and her bones for a body held steel that Amanda recognized and was immediately intrigued from the start in her music.

There was a softness to her as well that couldn't be ignored - but that wasn't something the brunette could've ever identified within herself. 

She left the the blonde her business card anyway and a place to meet for brunch the next day, watching as the half dazed and lifeless looking stripper stumble silently back to the two bedroom apartment she'd been sharing with five other girls. 

Like looking into a mirror, Amanda had thought.

 

...

 

After her third outfit change, Felicity threw her hands up in defeat and sat herself on the toilet seat cover to light up a smoke. 

Her roommates have all gone out for the day, leaving the blonde to pace around the apartment as her anxiety rose with each and every endless possibility of how her meeting would progress - if she went at all. She literally had nothing to lose for the first time in a long time, and the woman had seemed different than the others.

She was a woman. And that thought immediately put Felicity at ease for some reason. Years of repeated abuse and mistrust can do that to a person she'd guessed.

Her eyes was held back too - like hers, something that Felicity had also realized. But most importantly, she wanted to know how in the world this woman had found her. 

Curiosity always getting the best of her, she went.

 

...

 

"... You're saying you would like to work with me?"

Felicity was ten minutes early. It was a sky high hotel in the middle of the city with a name she couldn't pronounce, and after walking into the building, the blonde had to look around for a solid minute to find the welcome desk. Suddenly feeling underdressed, underprepared, and under everything - the blonde was prepared to make a break for it before her name was called out by the same reserved tone she was introduced to the night before. 

Donning a similar power suit from last night but in grey, the brunette greeted her simply before leading her up to the in house restaurant where a table of brunch items were already put out on display. The floor they were on was also completely empty, except for the chef and staff members silently tending to the woman's needs. Thanking the waiter who'd pulled out a chair for her, Felicity sat down and tried her best not to fumble with the hem of the dining cloth - or take note of the fact that it was in a cleaner shade of white than her own sundress. 

"As your manager, I will be able to make things happen faster, provide you with opportunities, resources, and most importantly - to make your brand known." Amanda answered smoothly, before taking a sip of her expresso that seemed to have avoided all of her perfectly applied lipstick.

Either this woman was very confident in her abilities, or she had never gotten the memo of how to butt kiss the artist. It was a refreshing approach, Felicity could give her that. But it still didn't answer the numerous questions swirling in her mind at the moment. Like why her?

"I was the one who approached the labels I did in the first place, I - I mean, how did you even find me?" 

"I heard you." Amanda responded simply, and when she'd sensed the blonde's utter confusion - she sighed and put down her cup to elaborate. "Your samples at the studio. I wanted to meet you and so here we are." Gesturing towards the table of untouched food, the brunette added in nonchalance. "Please, eat." 

Ignoring her latter statement, the blonde pushed for an answer. 

"But, why?" 

The brunette looked up to meet her gaze at that, both taken aback by the searching looks they were giving each other.

"Eat," Amanda repeated, her tone softer. "I want to show you something after."

 

_And now she's caught between  
_

_What to say and what she really means  
_

_And I am finally colouring  
_

_Inside the lines that I live between_

 

The studio she brought her to was impressive to say the least, and the list of people who she'd worked with was even more impressive.  The more Amanda showed her, the more Felicity became weary and puzzled at what a relapsing and episodically homeless Vegas girl like her - who's never made a single, would fit into all of this.

Their last stop of the day was to an apartment complex in a neighbourhood Felicity had never even bothered to step foot in. As the brunette carried on with her one sided conversation, Felicity looked around to the staff at the security desk who greeted them in silence and opened the penthouse elevator. 

"Is this your place?" Felicity asked once the door opened and Amanda gestured for her to follow her inside. 

"One of them." The brunette replied as she put down her purse. "What do you think?"

"What do I think?"

"About the apartment." Amanda nodded, as if it was the obvious thing in the world. 

"It's... nice. Why... I, I don't really have a professional opinion."

"It's yours if you want it." She offered as she turned to face her. 

"Do you usually buy your clients apartments?" Felicity joked, her tone light but her confusion apparent. 

"Not usually. You'd be the first."

Silence came and settled in as Amanda made herself comfortable on the leather lounge, and waited patiently for Felicity - who was too in her own head at the moment to let alone move to sit down.  

For the first time in her short eighteen years of life, Felicity could not read into a person's intentions.  And that scared her more than anything - more than her current ~~nonexistent~~ financial state. 

"Why are you showing me all of this?" She whispered, breaking the long awaited pause. "The restaurant, the studio, and now your properties... what are you possibly getting out of this?" 

There was no answer for a while. Felicity watched as Amanda stood up, her face neutral as she walked into the connected kitchen and took her time to open a new pack of cigarettes. Her back leaned against the island as she picked up one of them and spun it around her finger. 

It was suddenly then that Felicity had felt her anxiety settled into a more comfortable torture, as if it saw something kindred within the woman in front of her.  

"I came out the womb an addict." The brunette spoke as her eyes remained trained on the cigarette in her hand, the sudden sound of her voice made Felicity look back up at her. "Eventually, my mother ODed beside me so I ran the streets at twelve until I grew enough breasts to become employable - or desirable."

Lighting the cigarette in hand, the brunette's eyes were closed shut as she slowly inhaled her first breath of smoke before continuing in apathy.  As if she was no longer recalling her own past, but reading a dead girl's diary. "It was a different time, and I didn't have the blonde hair to be treated too nicely, so exotic experiences was all I could perform - whatever the fuck that meant, I still don't know."

Felicity wanted to say she'd detected a hint of bitterness in her tone, but all that remained were two empty eyes blinking occasionally at the smoke released from her almost finished cigarette. It'd almost sent a chill up her spine if that wasn't what she'd already looked like to other people.

But there was still fire burning within her, or she wouldn't still be here.

Right?

"All I had was what I thought to be a decent singing voice, but of course no one took notice." Amanda pressed down with her own fingers to extinguish the flame from the smoke.  "It took a hell lot more than pride swallowing and of other less tasteful things for me to get to where I am now."

Grabbing a new bottle of red from the fully stocked shelf, Amanda opened the cabinet to retrieve the only two glassware inside and filled them halfway.

"It's nice to have a place to come back to, and to know where your next meal is coming from. But that's not what I'm offering you, Felicity." She said as she pushed one of the glasses towards her across the island.  "I'm giving you what I had hoped for when I _was_ you."

"A chance - a real one."

 

(End of Flashback)

* * *

   

By the time they - or Oliver, had finished cleaning up the kitchen, the sun had begun to set. Meanwhile, Felicity had been subtly hurrying the process by not trying to help, hoping Oliver would appreciate the gesture. 

Oliver had noticed her strange behaviour throughout the entire afternoon. She'd been fidgeting more, and not out of pure anxiety like he'd been expecting, but out of dare he say excitement. This was only perpetuated when she'd insisted on him driving her to an unknown address that she wouldn't tell him about.

There wasn't a lot that she could've asked of him he could say no to.

"You know I'm eventually going to find out where we're going." Oliver stated as he started the car with his client buckling down beside him wrapped in her largest winter jacket. There was a brief moment, but a moment nevertheless - where he had to stop himself from checking to see if her eyes were bloodshot or dilated.  It was an old habit formed from years of being a bodyguard that he still couldn't break. He was trying though. For her. 

"Eventually." Felicity agreed, her delicate voice pulling him back from his thoughts. "I'm not sending you to slaughter, promise." 

Despite this morning's incident, she'd been having some good days.  Her initial withdrawal symptoms had eased up on their force and frequency in the last week, allowing her moments of alone time where she was not weighted down by her thoughts to get out of bed - and stay out of it.  And maybe even take the time to eat her meals with her bodyguard.  It didn't happen as often as she'd hoped it would, but Felicity wouldn't be one to complain. 

She hadn't felt like this in years.

"I'm just, I'm not good with surprises." Oliver confessed in an almost grunt, sending Felicity's teeth to bite down her bottom lip to keep from teasing him back. 

"I couldn't tell."

It didn't work. 

 

_..._

"I give up. Where are we?" Oliver turned off the engine after parking them in the back of some building he'd never seen before.

Felicity only unbuckled herself quickly and got out the car before he could say another word to stop her. 

"Come on," Felicity jumped slightly off the ground as she waved for him to follow her, thrill running through her sober veins. "Come on!"

Oliver had never never seen her like this, not even during her highest of highs - she was just so... enthusiastic.

It looked good on her.

He really didn't mean to drag her mood down, but with every step she was taking towards the closed building - Oliver's  nerves became more unsettled.

"Felicity, I don't like this -" He warned lowly as he caught up to her skip like pace. "This is trespassing, Felicity."

"Not if I rented the building out." She pointed out, turning back to meet his watchful gaze.

"Then why are we sneaking in from the back entrance?"

 

...

 

The fluorescents turned on row by row as soon as she'd finally pushed opened the thick doors, leaving Oliver simply flabbergasted as his eyes slowly took in the 7200 square feet hockey rink. When his eyes returned back into his eye sockets, he turned to his client who was already staring back at him with a similar sense of nervousness as this morning.

Before he could ask, Felicity beat him to it to explain. Sort of.

"It's an ice rink." She stated simply.

"And no one batted an eye when you rented out an entire indoor ice rink?" 

"Anonymity is a great thing... and their security cameras were unsurprisingly easy to hack into." Felicity's response drifted into a mutter before offering him a small but elated "... Surprise!"

At a lost for words, Oliver could only breathe out her name in a daze as he looked around the empty stadium.

"I know you're used to white Christmases at the cabin, and LA doesn't really scream winter in December." The blonde explained quietly behind him. "You're obviously still being reimbursed for extreme overtime but..."

Oliver turned back around at that, and his eyes couldn't help but look into hers with complete disbelief... and wonderment, before he was hit with another one of her add ons. 

"You're a size twelve right? I also borrowed slash stole some of their skates from the rent lockers."

 

...

 

"Felicity, you alright?"

"Mhmm." the blonde replied in a too high pitched tone as she struggled to lift her left leg from the platform and onto the ice without losing balance. "I just didn't take into account of the teensy fact that I've never skated before in my entire life." She added, pinching her gloved thumb and index finger together to indicate just exactly how little she'd thought of the matter.

"Oliv - Oliver what are you doing," She looked up to find her bodyguard suddenly in front of her despite having been across the rink only a second ago. And having taken both her hands - which had been holding onto the rink's gate. Where they were safe, if she may have added.

"You trust me, Felicity?"

The ladeness of the question didn't hit him until the words had finished coming out his mouth, and the convoluted blue eyes staring back at him seemed to have realized the same too.  

The heaviness of the silence dragged its weight until Oliver was forced to reel in his words before he became the one to ramble. Upon starting his gradual retreat however, Felicity hastily removed herself from the trance and bobbed her head slightly in a nod before whispering a soft yes. Caught within the tides of her blues, Oliver was only shaken out of it by the slight tightening of her hands. He squeezed back gently as his mouth dipped into half of a soft smile, the one that she tended to bring out in him.

With her attention temporarily diverted, Oliver took the opportunity to bring the rest of her body slowly onto the ice before her panic could react to it.

"I'm doing it!... Am I doing it?" Felicity exclaimed worriedly as her hands subconsciously refused to let go of his. Or half his fingers to be precise, since hers couldn't reach fully around his much wider palms. 

"You mean standing on the rink? Yes you are." Oliver's half smile turning into a fully grown smirk. 

"I'm satisfied with that, I'll just stay here and why are you coming towards me like that -"

"You said you trust me." Oliver stated, as if he was asking her to confirm it once more.  She nodded slowly as he closed in on her, bending down to lessen their height difference so his hands could come around her waist and over her shaking legs.

Before she knew it, Felicity was holding the back of his leather jacket for dear life as he literally swooped the blonde off her skate cladded feet and started moving.

 

...

 

Her guileless squeallike laughter resonated throughout the arena as Oliver casually lapped around the rink.  The sound an addicting melody that left his mind buzzing as his eyes were kept locked on the exhilarated blonde in his arms - and the way the gold in her hair flickered wildly across his face with the speed he was going at. 

"... Was Thea a horrid skater?" She asked without warning later, her gaze far away behind him as he slowed their pace down until they eventually came into a gliding stop. 

In search of some hint of consolation within his silence, Felicity rested her chin lightly on his shoulder until she felt Oliver shook his head after a long while. "It was why I called her Speedy. Always the fastest one between us two."

It was then his turn to wait as her head took its time turning before allowing her eyes to tentatively fall back to his. No longer moving, Oliver found himself keeping her legs in his grasp. The intensity of his stare, coupled with his other hand tightening around her back sent a quiver up her spine in an effort to make sure she understood. "Unlike you."

They spoke like this, with big truths condensed into short and evasive revelations. But there had always been a unspoken wonder as to how they'd both managed to silently establish this way of reeling honesty from one another.

Just inches of air separating their faces, Oliver had felt each of her gelid breaths find home against his chin as the galaxy within her eyes scoured his with equal part determination - and apprehension. They'd stayed like that, with her hand clutching over his wildly beating chest for support, until Oliver witnessed the gradual softening of her wide eyes - as a look of what almost could be hope tried to replace lingering uncertainty. 

"Unlike me."

 

_Hold it in, oh let's go dancing_

_I do believe we're only passing through_

_Wired again now look who's laughing_

_You again, all you, all you, all you_

 

"Thank you, Felicity. This was..."

"A little illegal?" Felicity suggested as she waved the skates she just took off in her hands as if they were mittens.

"I was going to say insane." Oliver quipped lightly as he took the pairs of skates back to where his blonde client had 'borrowed' them.

Felicity, who'd been tailing closely behind him shrugged lightly. "Not the worst I've been called," making Oliver turn back to face the reason for his cold ears and the wired feeling in his head, to ensure himself her response to their banter was still lighthearted.

He turned back before noticing the slight clattering of her teeth.

Exiting the building towards their car as the night struck twelve, Oliver admitted quietly. "No one's secretly booked out an entire community centre - then proceeded to hack into their cameras for me before."

Walking right under his arm - which had been resting on top of the opened passenger door, Felicity lifted her head _way up_ to make do for their shortened distance.

"Happy Birthday, Oliver." And when she gave him the most sweetest smile in return, the sight had almost blinded him to forget everything that she'd done for his sake tonight.

 

...

 

"Where the fuck did _they_ come from?" Oliver growled aloud as he drove out from the back parking lot, and was forced into a crude stop when the car was instantly swarmed by a group of flashing camera lights and muddled yelling. Having exchanged the Cadillac for something plainer, the clear windows did nothing to block out the intruding flashes and stares. Turning to his client, he was faced with a completely still bundled body - the only sign of life was in her petrified blues, which were currently stunned by the unbelievable amount of blinding light she was under. 

"Felicity! Felicity! Over here!"

"What are you doing this late out back of a rec centre in the middle of nowhere?"

"Are you visiting family, a boyfriend?"

"Is this hiatus permanent? Can you confirm if the rumours are true that you're quitting music?"

"You were last said to be recovering from your fall - was that untrue?"

"Who's this beside you?"

Taking off his leather jacket, he reached over quickly and tucked the fabric to cover the passenger side window before rolling down his own to bark his threats towards the paparazzi to get the fuck out the way.

Pressing down his gas petal, Oliver broke about every traffic rule before they arrived back to The House twenty minutes later. Swiftly turning off the engine and stepping out the car, Oliver did a thorough perimeter check for any followers before walking around to open the passenger door.  After watching the frozen blonde blink several times in her seat, Felicity silently unbuckled her seatbelt and followed him inside. 

The light hint of pink from earlier was now completely void from her complexion as Felicity curled herself into the corner cushion of the living room sofa and stared blankly down at the swirling patterns of the rug. Oliver took a moment to recollect himself before joining her, keeping a safe distance - knowing how much she'd needed space in times like this. 

"You know after a night out, Thea would always demand a cup of hot chocolate." Oliver recalled quietly, in an effort to maintain the delicately formed bubble she'd made. "Not the packaged kind, we'd have to had made it from scratch for her to touch it."

"I've never made one before," Felicity whispered minutes later into the dimly lit living room. 

Getting up from the other side of the couch, the man headed towards the connected kitchen.

"Come on."

 

...

 

Felicity watched in silence from her place on the sofa while Oliver walked back and forth around the artificially lit kitchen with a metal pot and spatula in hand, currently in search for the rest of his ingredients. It was a strange sight for her take in as reality. Even after two years of living with him, this was... different.   _It_ felt different -

 _She_ felt different.

He was no longer another stranger sharing the same hotel rooms as her, but someone whom she'd shared meals with in private and was always beat when it came to washing the dishes afterwards - someone who knew the worst of the sins she'd committed and now made hot chocolate from scratch on Friday nights. 

There had never been enough - or any time in her life to digest it, but lately she'd been finding herself looking around - like now with The House - in search of things that belonged to her. She'd found none. And perhaps the realization came then that she had never truly stayed in one place long enough in her life to ever  ~~need~~  have any.  

Felicity couldn't remember when it began, but there had always been a burning sense of impermanence that simmered beneath everything - and everyone she'd ever encountered.  Amanda told her this once long ago.  And tonight's sudden fleet of cameras reminded her of that very fact. 

But then her eyes found itself once again settling on the bright green plastic vase sitting in the middle of the glass dining table - a new addition from last night when Oliver brought it back holding a colourful bouquet in hand, along with the lilies for his sister.  

Looking back up into the kitchen, her eyes was met with a pair of soft blue ones that'd beckoned her to get up and she did. Slowly, like entering a lucid dream. 

_Temporary._

Maybe it was strange because despite already living in it, Felicity could never stop herself from longing for _it_.

 

...

 

"I don't remember buying these." Oliver stated as he drew up a bag of Nestle chips and mini JetPuffed from the cabinet in question.

"Oh, I did. This morning, with Mr. Diggle?" Felicity replied as she looked over at the simmering pot of milk on the stove. "I thought I could incorporate them... into the cake, somehow."

"Would you like to do the honours then?" Oliver asked, putting down the bag of marshmallows before handing the bowl of chocolate chips to her. 

"Upon the precedent set from this morning, I don't think it's the best idea." Felicity crinkled her face slightly into a frown, which only tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"The fire extinguisher and I will be right here." He reassured her before pushing the bowl forward, to which Felicity eventually gave into - but not before allowing herself another moment of hesitance. 

"Woah, woah. Slow down."

Felicity quickly stopped her pouring. Did she fuck up the mixture already? Were the chocolate all going to burn? 

"... How do you know how much is too much?" She asked, tilting her head until it landed as a thud against his chest - causing the man to look down in slight concern after she groaned softly.

"... After a while, you'll just know." He replied as he relieved her from the bowl and began stirring the pot, with her body still comfortably stood in between his and the stove. 

Felicity watched with utter fascination as the chocolate slowly swirled within the milk and transformed into the familiar brown she'd known. And after repeatedly making grabby hands towards the spatula, Oliver resigned and gave into her child like behaviour so she could get a few stirs in before he poured the contents into two mugs. 

"This is the best hot chocolate that I've ever had." Felicity declared with absolute certainty when they returned to their initial spots on the couch with their drinks. 

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Ms. Smoak." He chuckled warmly before adding. "Except to feed my need for external validation on my cooking."

They sat in comfortable silence for a while before Felicity spoke up, with her renowned fidgeting making another appearance for the evening.

"So I did a thing." Felicity began, making Oliver shift his eyes towards her in concern. "Why do you already look worried?" 

Before Felicity could respond to his pointed look however, the vibration of her cellphone pierced a hole into their bubble. And she didn't need the caller ID to figure out who it'd be.

 

...

 

"Amanda?" Felicity greeted, after closing the door to the small office. The room dark, as the blonde had decided to forfeit turning on the lights.   
  
"I didn't know midnight sneaking into recreational centres was a hobby of yours."   
  
Sighing, the blonde shouldn't be surprised the woman would be awake at this hour - still tracking any updates with her name on it. "I didn't know where the paps came from, Amanda, honest."  
  
"You do remember you're supposedly recovering from a fall you took _on stage_?" The brunette continued on. "I think by the looks of it, the two months of recovery has done you well. The public will seem to think so."

"What do you suggest I do?" Felicity palmed her forehead wearily as she sank herself down onto the computer chair.   
  
"We can talk about it on Monday when you come in, 8am sharp." She said with a finality in her calm voice. "Welcome back to work Felicity."

 

...

 

Oliver watched as his blonde client returned from the office she had since called her bedroom for the past month.  With her a small gift bag in hand, she swiftly planted a mask of tranquility when her gaze met his. "Since we're in the celebratory season," she said as she rounded the couch before planting herself back onto the seat and shook the bag towards him. "I finally made copies of The House keys. Happy Independence."

"Please tell me that was the thing," Oliver muttered, entertaining her for the moment as he reached inside the bag to retrieve the keys - noticing the demure metal snowflake attached to it.

Oblivious, Felicity rolled her eyes playfully before getting up to draw back one of the curtains - revealing a stack of books in the shape of a Christmas tree. Pushing in the plug, the yellow lights shone around the makeshift decor. "I had a bit of time before Mr. Diggle picked me up this morning so..." The blonde shrugged shyly before looking up to gage his reaction. "We can get a real tree if you want, I mean. I just... I want to make you feel as much at home here and - I know it doesn't make up for being stuck here with me instead..."

Oliver tried to open his mouth to speak, but ended up standing to initiate a one sided staring contest with the tree instead that quickly fed into Felicity's anxiety. Blinking away quicker this time, he turned to the blonde with an awestruck expression before gently tugging her back onto where they'd been sitting. 

"Felicity..." He croaked out. Keeping her cold hands enveloped in his, Oliver resisted the urge to lift up her chin and waited patiently instead - until her eyes timidly met his.

"I _want_ to be here." 

"... Yeah?" Her voice suddenly so small and diffident, allowing the doubt which had been consuming her to peer through in its paralyzing fullness. 

"Yeah." Oliver's intense gaze softened as he watched the blonde slowly take in his words with silent contemplation.

He'd come to the acceptance a while ago that he could never truly decipher the remarkable, but often troubled architecture that her mind was made of.  However, the act of his thumb slowly caressing her wrists became a lullaby that could lure her apprehensions to bed - and it was in that moment that Oliver had decided, it was the closest thing he could ever get to.

 

...

 

"So who was on the phone," Oliver asked when enough time had passed for words to be comfortable again.  When no answer came around, he looked up from their hands to find his client's head resting languidly on one of the back cushions, her impenetrable blues covered by the darkness of her lashes - leaving behind only hushed and even breaths in its place.  

Felicity's hands were the most delicate thing that Oliver's had ever made contact with, the skin so terrifyingly soft that he had trouble letting them go to take off her glasses.  And with so little space between them, it was hard not to admit how exhausted she'd truly looked - almost grey to the point where he could see behind every vein that ran down her arms, and up each of the hollowed slopes of her neck. They've added to her incredible vulnerability, making Oliver search the deepest parts within him to ensure no _actions_ of his were taking advantages of that. Especially in times like these, where she'd laid her armour down to rest after another day of leaving him breathless with the curious wonders of her mind, and her incredulous... yet endearing kindness.

With too careful hands, he slowly carried her resting body into the office she'd stubbornly called bed. And he swore that he could've heard faint beatings from the intricate movements of her rising chest. He was well aware of the fact that other people wouldn't hear this. Let alone take notice of it. Not even a bodyguard - not in the way he has.

But whenever Oliver looked at her, he was constantly reminded of the things that gave him proof she was still alive.

 

_Hold it in, oh let's go dancing_

_I do believe we're only passing through_

_Wired again now look who's laughing_

_Me again, all fired up on you_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Will I ever write shorter chapters? I ask myself the same. 
> 
> 2\. This chapter was initially written in time for the holiday season, but - c'est la vie.
> 
> 3\. Next on Body Check: Felicity goes back to work. The return of someone close, and an appearance of someone new. 
> 
> Unrelated, I tuned into an episode recently after some gif hunting for the story. Having not followed the last few seasons - I was thrown a bit out the loop with the reboot vibe. If you're keeping up w/ the show, any thoughts? Maybe I'll catch up when the series ends.
> 
> Questions, comments, concerns? Let me know in the comments below or on maverickyoung.tumblr.com. Thanks for reading x


	14. I'll Be Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'll Be Good - Jaymes Young - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=scd-uNNxgrU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Previously on Body Check: Oliver's birthday, and Felicity called back to work.

  

Crumbling the now empty bagel wrapper, Oliver looked up to who was sitting across from him, drowned in what was supposed to be a rather fitted sweater.

A paper coffee cup between her hands, her face was turned away from him towards the window.  The capillaries under her eyes have taken the spotlight in the natural light, accumulated from years of empty afflictions - and a weekend of restlessness.

"We don't have to go today." His words broke the silence. And despite the casual tone of his voice, there was not a hint of amusement on Oliver's features when his client's blond curls brushed away from the window to turn to him. 

Felicity... simply smiled up at him softly - as if his words meant nothing but for mere comfort before lowering her head to take a timid sip of her coffee.

The town's cafe was nearly empty this early in the morning on a Monday, except for the occasional suit coming in to grab a quick bite before rushing into the city traffic.

They'd continued to sit in routine silence while Felicity stole what she'd thought to be subtle glances towards the counter, until her attention was fully diverted to the display of pastries sat beside the register - and Oliver followed suit as hers landed on a particular chocolate croissant. 

On some days when Felicity left her bedroom before noon, they would have breakfast at The House together.  And despite him having ever seen her take more than a slice of toast, he'd still made the point of keeping their plates equally full. 

Oliver would always make enough for two, not knowing if today would the morning she'd join him. But on the days that she did, Oliver would be reminded again of how natural it was to make conversation with her.  To be fair, up until that following morning, he'd not met someone who was as equally passionate in debating whether or not Die Hard was actually considered a Christmas movie.

And if they avoided all of each other's known triggers and forbidden topics, it was like if they were... just normal. Like both of them had arrived here by choice and this situation, this... temporary relationship - was their everyday life. 

Now shifting his gaze back and forth between his client and the counter, Oliver contemplated quietly as Felicity rubbed her fingers against the lid of her cup.  It was more controlled now, her apprehension. Or at least easier for her to cover up with the almost flat affect donned upon her face.

"We should get going." She spoke softly instead as she moved to get up, the wince on her face appearing and leaving so quickly that Oliver almost didn't catch it.  He'd pushed that thought for later though.

Having picked up her emerald mittens from their table, Oliver stood unmoving until the blonde walked close enough towards him and the door.  Felicity had been eyeing the gloves in his hand when his other one came up to tuck away a stubborn piece of curl curtaining her face.

The slight graze of his thumb upon her temple seemed to have drawn the blonde's attention as her head tilted - covering his vision with those big blue eyes of hers staring up at him so intently. 

"You know, I could use another bagel." And despite the morning rasp in his voice, Oliver's white lie was smoothly disguised in an attempt to prompt her of taking that last step.

"...  _You_  want anything?" 

_Pause._

Felicity quickly shook her head and withdrew her body just subtly enough so she could no longer physically keep their gaze.

"There's always catering at the office." She reassured him weakly before looking past him at the exit. 

Oliver could only fold in his lips with resignation before nodding once, and pulled opened the glass door. 

 

...

 

Shedding her oversized red sweater, Felicity was left vulnerable to the elements in a sleeveless purple number that had once been completely covered.  As the car barely moved in the traffic lane, Oliver's peripheral vision kept to the passenger seat where his client had been beating her face - until colour in the form of pink and brown powder covered both her cheeks and lips.  And despite her shimmering eyes daring to droop down, the blonde had somehow managed to contain enough of her yawns to finish coating her lashes full as well. 

Oliver had almost forgotten how she'd looked like with makeup on, having grown so used to seeing her bare face every morning for the past few months as they dwelled incognito in Ivy Town.

When she'd decided she was done, the blonde flickered to meet his already staring gaze - her now sharply framed eyes silently asking if she'd looked less like a recovering addict, and more like the put together money symbol she was known to the rest of the world. 

And it was as if Felicity had peered into his thoughts just then when she'd stopped herself from biting into her fully painted bottom lip before speaking. 

"They've just never seen it this bad."  Her stance softened with a slight shrug, and the look in her eyes was almost pleading for him to understand before she turned back to the tasks on hand. 

Squeezing the last of the eye dropper she'd been carrying, the blonde blinked down hard to get rid of the congested vessels in her eyes before her body slowly relearned how to fit into this mold again. 

Oliver remained grudgingly silent and forced his head back as the sign of Waller's label company grew larger into view.  It was only when he had finally pulled their car into the reserved parking space, that he turned around to face her again. 

Felicity was diligently collecting her bag and coat from her seat, and the only signs of life coming from his client were the goosebumps on her forearms and the rubbing action of her fingers. Oliver had tried to ignore it, he really did. But in the midst of a calm before another storm, and before the apathetic demeanour could completely take over, Oliver took it upon himself to finally answer the blonde's struggling question.

"You were beautiful, Felicity." 

 

 

_I thought I saw the devil, this morning._

_Looking in the mirror, drop of rum on my tongue,_

_With the warning to help me see myself clearer._

 

 

The elevator ride up to the nineteenth floor was nowhere slow enough for her to collect her body into a seemingly working unit.

As the doors slid back, the pair was greeted by Sara - who was balancing a mug of coffee on top of a thick grey binder.  She looked like she'd always did; dark washed jeans, blouse half tucked in, and a permanent smirk adorned on her face.  

"Hey stranger, welcome back." She saluted - and underneath the wily tone of her voice was sympathy as she handed her the weighty binder, before proceeding to down the caffeine herself. 

Felicity shook her head slightly in mirth before walking to catch up with her assistant, who was already halfway across the hall.  Her limbs had been giving out on her more than often lately, and the extra weight in her hands weren't helping.  Confined in the five inch heels she could've once sleepwalked with, the blonde was now failing to keep up the pace - or even physically keep herself up as she struggled not to drop completely onto the marbled floor.

Oliver followed behind his client as she very slowly guided herself towards the conference room, his eyes drifting from her balancing sticks for legs to her stiffening and equally bare arms.  And before he could stop himself - Oliver loosened both his fists and placed one of them on the dip of her back just barely to trigger a pause in her step, while the other came around swiftly to relieve her of the four-pound binder. 

Despite his reflexive action, he knew he shouldn't have done that.

And Felicity proved him right when when her chest pushed in a gasp at the sudden movement, while her arm instinctively grabbed onto his suit covered bicep to barely save her fall.

A whole minute after when she was steady but no less dumbfounded, her eyes roamed up the length of his arm until her head was tilted up - to which Oliver met with a question of concern in his eyes.

And as if the connection of their gaze was a doorway to reality - Felicity blinked back to where she'd been holding onto him and hastily pulled her arm away before muttering silent apologies. 

Oliver tightened his hold in an attempt to pull her gaze back up, but after a beat of no success - he gingerly retrieved his hand from her back to return to his side.

 

...

 

The room was full except for the empty seat in the middle when Felicity entered behind Sara, leaving Oliver by the door. 

Amanda nodded at their entrance as the room quieted down from conversation.  The dark brunette raised an eyebrow as she sat down, and Felicity was about to ask what was wrong when a familiar warmth surrounded her from behind once more.  

A hand landed on the back of her chair before another came around to place the binder in front of her on the table.

The moment their eyes met seemed so different this time, now with other chary ones watching.  Feelings came to a rise - trepidation and guilt having seemed to outshine the rest.

Of what?

What did she have to be afraid or feel guilty about being with him in public? Not... with him, with him but-

It was Oliver who broke their gaze then.  

He wanted to give her a world worth of reassurance but instead left her with a nod of what she'd assumed to be encouragement that still fed something to her empty stomach.  

"Let's get down to business shall we?" Waller cleared her throat as her fingers diligently flipped opened her notebook. 

 

...

 

They were about about an hour into the meeting, and Felicity had managed to fill her body with enough water to quiet the noises her stomach had been making in useless protest.

Still, her eyes anxiously glanced around the room to spot anyone who might've noticed - leaving Waller's words on her schedule for next week to fall on deaf ears. 

"So that's about it with the press statement so far. Let's talk upcoming plans... Felicity?"

It almost sounded so foreign, her name.

She'd gotten so used the same bearded mouth speaking it for the past few weeks that her brain did not immediately recognize it as its own anymore. 

Has Waller always said her name like that?

When had it sounded so clinical?

"I... I'd been thinking about that - my plans I mean, during my hiatus.  Given I'm not exactly in shape to continue touring, I think I'd like to see to different projects right now."

Her words - her very first ones in today's meeting seemed to drawn most of the heads back up from their phones and tablets.  Sara in particular, seemed even intrigued.

Felicity silently let out what had felt like her first breath since entering the building. 

"Did you have anything in mind?" Waller inquired smoothly, before taking a sip of her glass bottled water. 

"I'm open to ideas, so if anyone wants to pitch in..." She shrugged lightly, and before her shoulders could sit back to rest - the brunette began to speak. 

"You remember the list of projects I was going to tell you about when you first came back from Tennessee?"

_(The ones she never got into details before Felicity feigned enough courage to give herself a hiatus.)_

"Sure," Felicity nodded instead. Her hands gathered underneath the table, finger and thumb rubbing once more in poor habit. 

"Well, this opportunity came just in time, now that you want to shift the gear a little." She smiled genuinely before continuing. "You're familiar with Ray Palmer. He's working on his next film right now - and he's looking for someone to score some of the music."

"Someone like..." Felicity tilted her head, her brows pulled together in slight confusion. 

"He asked for you." Waller confirmed her assumption.  And there was a certain pride in her voice that Felicity didn't want to disappear.

But she knew her next words would exactly do just that. 

"But I've never done anything remotely close to film." She countered quietly. 

"And I'm sure the  _Oscar winning director_  is aware of that, Felicity. He's been patiently waiting for you to recover from your... fall."

"A meeting won't hurt anyone Lis," Sara added with a shrug.  

Felicity glanced across the room once more, finding equal enthusiasm upon each face before nodding herself along in agreement. 

 

 

_I never meant to start a fire,_

_I never meant to make you bleed,_

_I'll be a better man today._

 

 

He walked in with a kind of confidence she'd struggled for years to emulate.  And somehow looking casual dressed in a three piece, Felicity suddenly felt even more inadequate as the man walked into her office - to which she had been napping in.

Quickly standing up, Felicity brushed down the slight wrinkles on her dress before walking around the sofa and hoped to Google there wasn't drool on her face.

The man was all self-assurance and earnest charm, just like in every interview and carpet walk she'd seen. 

Coffee warm eyes crinkled into an easy smile, Ray Palmer himself outstretched his right hand towards her upon entering.

"I apologize for being late, the heli pad wasn't exactly ready for my arrival." He grimaced slightly before smoothly bouncing back. "It's very nice to see you again, Ms. Smoak."

"Again?" She looked up from where their hands were just intertwined.

"Your performance at Madison Square a few months back was... remarkable."

"I... thank you." Colour slowly warmed her cheeks, before curiosity got the best of her. "I wasn't told you were there -"

"Would you believe me if I said I was simply there for the music?" He asked, his tone genuine. 

"And here I thought you were a fan of the high pitch screaming." 

He laughed heartily before a throat clear caught the both of them off guard.  Felicity jumped at the sudden sound and found her bodyguard standing just two feet behind her.  His broad shadow... and calming presence usually kept her aware of his company, but the blonde had to admit for a moment she'd forgotten he'd been sitting at the corner of the office during her brief two hour nap.

Had he been standing here the whole time?

Oliver's eyes were analytical as he observed the room and the man currently inside it.

When they had finally settled on hers, the hard of his blues softened slightly. "I had to take a phone call in the restroom. Did Mr. Diggle let him in?"

Keeping his gaze on her, Felicity turned to see Ray looking at her expectantly.

"Oh. This is my uh... my head of security, Oliver.  He goes wherever I go, well almost everywhere - not like  _everywhere_  you know -"

Ray simply offered his hand to the stoic looking bodyguard. "...Then hopefully we'll see a lot more of each other, Oliver." 

 

...

 

Oliver stood by the door, eyes lasering on every movement the man was making - just borderline of not being subtle enough.  Felicity could tell Ray was slightly uncomfortable by the stare down, but covered it well with confidence on the couch section across from where she'd been sleeping.

"I heard about your stage fall, it looks like the hiatus has done you well."

Felicity followed suit and sat down. The expression on his face seemed sincere.  After years of perfidy, it'd become a skill that she just couldn't control - information rolling off of trained intuition whenever she encountered new people. 

"It has," she answered truthfully. "I think I'm ready to... dive back in.  No pun intended." 

The brown in his eyes lit up at that, offering her another smile. "I have to say I'm really glad to hear that, as I was hoping you would take part in a little project of mine."

Felicity nodded, making herself more comfortable on the sofa seat - disguising her anxiety by bringing her hands together in her lap. "I'm uh, to say the least quite surprised. If you don't mind me asking..."

"Why did I choose you?" He finished, not unkindly. In fact, from the looks of it - he'd been expecting this question from her.

And Felicity waited patiently for him to explain, while Oliver's eyes narrowed - straying from his neutral expression. 

" _Farewell to you my love, I'm closing my eyes. You'll let go this cold, cold hand in time."_ He worded exactly after a beat.

It was the first time Felicity saw vulnerability in the director's eyes, like the prestigious glow he'd been emulating across the room had dimmed a little.

"When my... when my wife passed away, I listened to that record - the whole EP on repeat day after day, for months.  For a long time, it was the playlist for my grief... I guess in a strange way, I felt like I'd already met you." 

She remembered that lyric, it was the one of many from the beginning of her career that were never officially released - left to dry out through emails and in some downtown studio.  Felicity named the song something ridiculous like '[Marshmallow Unicorn](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vh0syIm0NRI)', but it'd contained some of the most therapeutic words she'd ever written.

It was a coming-out-of-mourning song really, after...  _for_ Giovanna.

Just simple guitar strings, a feather voice, and not a single hint of a chorus.

It was no surprise to her that no studio took interest. 

Felicity nodded with understanding. 

There was a new light between them - a kind of creative appreciation she'd been craving with another artist.  Ray saw something in her music that was beyond what she'd been putting out.

He saw an emotional collaborator, someone he could trust to deliver what he'd wanted in what must be a very personal project. 

And Felicity had never felt so terrified in her life.

* * *

  

"The call was from the front desk.  Someone at the lobby is asking for you."

Felicity looked up from her tablet reading her schedule. 

"Did they say who?" 

Walking out of the freight elevator, Oliver led his client down the hall to her hotel room. They had a few hours to kill before the welcome back party being hosted at a nearby private club. 

"I was going down to check after escorting you inside." He said as he swiped the key card to open the room door. "They said she was blonde."

Felicity's back was to him when she suddenly stopped at the entrance, her shoulders tensed before turning her head slightly to speak.

"Let her up, would you?" Her tone light but the uneasiness within it was clear. 

Oliver came further into the room so he could turn to face her, although her eyes were still not meeting him. 

"If it's that same intruder from last time Felicity -"

"Just -" She shut her eyes, her fingers rubbing her temple. "Please let her up."

Oliver sighed lowly as if to restrain himself before pressing on. "She's a security risk, Felicity.  I'm not going to let her near you without knowing who she is, if she's armed, what her intentions are -"

"She's my mother, Oliver." She admitted to him wearily, her eyes drained and hooded - still avoiding his. "She's scared of anything sharper than her nails and as for intentions - I've never been quite sure either."

Her two hour nap seemed to have done her no good as she looked about two seconds from passing out.  Her fatigue, dizziness, and headaches have stayed despite the long initial passing of her first withdrawal phase - and its chronicity has taken its toll on the blonde.  

And when Felicity tried to move herself to the couch nearby, she was at least rational enough to grab a hold of him instead. 

"Sorry I, can you just..." She whispered pointing to the corner seat before leaning the rest of her small body on his arm.  

Oliver wrapped his arm around her carefully, guiding her slowly to the corner cushion so she could lay down her head.  As soon as she was down however, Felicity was writhing uncomfortably vertical on the couch. He bent down until they were at eye level and found her hands pulling weakly at the straps of her dress. 

"Felicity?" 

She was whining so softly, Oliver couldn't hear her even with their faces so close from one another.  After more useless pulling of her own dress, Oliver finally got the message that she was suffocating underneath the uncompromising clothing. 

He was going to suggest getting something more comfortable for her to wear before realizing all their stuff were back at The House, as they were only staying in this hotel for a few hours. 

"Hold on a minute, okay?" Oliver whispered into her ear before heading into the en suite in search of any complimentary apparel.  The bathrobe had weighed the same as her, and its thickness was likely to be equally as restricting as the dress she had on. 

After digging meticulously through the bedroom he'd found an extra large men's tee shirt folded in the closet, complimentary of the hotel.  The paired pants wouldn't have fitted her small figure but the shirt was enough to cover her entire body.  

Oliver came back to a small pool of green vomit on the carpet below where Felicity's head was laying.  The smell of pure bile from an empty stomach only made her more nauseous as she turned her head into the couch cushion to stop the smell.

Stepping over the carpet, he put a hand on her shoulder to get her attention. "I got you something to wear from the hotel, can you sit up for me?"

Felicity turned to face him and nodded meekly before slowly pushing herself up.  Her body however, wasn't cooperating as each of her muscles tightened to the point of stiffening limbs - causing her to physically wince.  Oliver took note of it once more before coming around to support her back until her head was laid high against the couch.

"Can you lift your arms Felicity?"

Oliver could tell she was drifting in and out of it, and when she looked straight at him - it was as if her vision was fogged.  

"I think I - I think I threw up..." She uttered, slowly shaking out of her limbo fatigue.

"I'm going to call guest services right after you change, okay?" He replied instead, holding up the tee shirt.

Her arms turned out to be dead weight attachments, so Oliver ended up having to pull her arms through the sleeves like he would a stroke patient.

Once the shirt was on her, Felicity didn't need to be told before she haphazardly rolled down her dress from underneath until the purple fabric touched the floor.  Oliver folded the dress diligently and placed it inside her purse which he hung in the closet, then proceeded to grab a bottle of water from the counter along with the pill container he'd gotten for her.

Bent down before her, Oliver placed a gentle hand underneath Felicity's chin until she lifted her gaze up to meet his - soundlessly accepting the opened water bottle and with his help, took in small sips. 

Oliver took her in then.

All her fly aways were plastered onto her hairline and forehead while the rest of her straightened locks frizzled out from the thrashing and perspiration.  The mascara she'd put on this morning has ran down to cover her dark circles, and the paleness of dehydration has proven to be more powerful than her fuchsia lip gloss.

Now drowned in a beige men's t shirt that was hanging dangerously off her shoulder, all her masks were gone.

Vulnerable before him, again. 

"What's happening, Felicity." He whispered gently, not wanting to scare her even more. 

"Can... can you get me some Advil?" She replied instead, after successfully taking in another sip of water without choking. 

Oliver nodded eventually and followed through with her request.

She wasn't feeling nauseous anymore after half an hour.

And he didn't ask any more questions. 

 

...

 

The cleaning staff came in after Oliver had helped Felicity into the bedroom. The blonde still wanted him to bring her mother - Donna, up from the lobby after the room had been cleaned up.  And having somehow convinced him she was feeling back to normal, Oliver begrudgingly agreed - which brought him to this current moment. 

Oliver escorting Donna to meet her daughter. 

She didn't seem to mind the lack of conversation, while Oliver was two seconds from exploding with questions about her, for her - to her.  Starting with the two suitcases she was tolling behind her. 

But instead he'd closed the front door after the woman had walked in, and stood outside as close to the wall as possible. 

 

...

 

"I'm guessing you're done with the East coast." Felicity noted when she saw the suitcases she'd left by the door. 

Donna looked like she'd always did; full hair, flimsy cocktail dress, and sky high stilettos with a permanent urge to run. 

"I need a place to stay, Lissy." 

Felicity sighed, still downed in the hotel shirt - she'd swapped out her contacts for glasses and kept her curls up into a bun.  Cross legged, she sat on the sofa and watched her mother walking towards to join her. 

"What happened to Philadelphia?" She asked, not sure if she wanted to know the answer. 

"It's complicated Lis," Donna waved it off before stopping herself. "But it's not a money problem - not directly. It's a safety thing."

"Are you in trouble?" Felicity's brows furrowed into concern.

Donna brought her legs under her and looked down at her hands - it was one of the habits Felicity'd picked up from her. The finger rubbing. 

She was anxious about something.

"I can get you set up anywhere in LA, but... I just got back to work, so I'm not going to be staying in one place for too long." 

Donna shook her head at that and finally met her gaze. Her blue eyes - so alike her own, filled with ghosts and anguish. 

"You're saying you don't want me here. With you." She stated dryly.

"That wasn't what I meant and you know it."

But in turn, Donna's voice only turned more desperate than angry. "I have a passport, I can travel along too so I don't see what's stopping you from -"

"You need somewhere stable, permanent. Not an endless party scene." Felicity cut in gently. "Bringing you along with me isn't going to help you get settled down, make friends, let alone recover."

Donna looked straight at her, her expression incredulous. "That's real rich Lis, coming from _you_." 

"Mom..." She sighed, feeling the back of head knocking with pain again. 

"You know, it's so funny." Donna shook her head in disbelief, her voice drenched with so much armour Felicity wondered if this was how she'd sounded like when she spoke to those around her. "I was... I was always so afraid that one day... you were going to leave me too."

Lifting her head, the older woman smiled sadly at her daughter. "But now I finally realize... you already did."

 

 

_My past has tasted bitter for years now,_

_So I wield an iron fist._

_Grace is just weakness,_

_Or so I've been told._

_I've been cold, I've been merciless._

_But the blood on my hands scares me to death,_

_Maybe I'm waking up today._

 

 

Oliver found her in the same spot on the couch after escorting Donna down to the lobby.  Given the tear stained expression on the older woman's face, it was not likely that the conversation had ended pleasantly. 

He approached her with two glasses, refilled with water, before taking a seat beside her.  He could do this now, sit beside her - go into her bubble without causing either of them discomfort.

Felicity had ignored his presence for a while, before slowly turning to face him. 

Her face scrubbed clean, hair up, and both her legs buried beneath her tee shirt, her chin was partly tucked in  - staring up at him from underneath her wet lashes.

Felicity looked so young here, younger than what she already was. 

But there was conflict in her eyes. 

"Do you like me, Oliver?" She'd whispered, her words taking him aback.

Where did this - where did this come -

But before his mind could process her question, the blonde had continued on. 

"I mean, am I... am I a good person?"

Oliver's body immediately relaxed from that sentence, somehow the latter question had brought him more comfort than it should.  His eyes softened naturally when he turned his body to the side, facing her's. 

He gave her that look that said 'talk to me', and waited for her to elaborate more.  But she only looked down and gulped softly, silently playing with her hands until one of his covered them. 

They had remained clammy from hours ago, and her boney fingers lacked any inch of warmth as they melted against his. 

Little by little, her hands loosened up their hold on each other as her right index finger began to crawl up against the back of his hand.  It started with small and timid strokes, but it wasn't for long before both of her delicate hands were playing with his. 

Oliver carefully maneuvered himself closer to her spot on the sofa, while keeping his hand steady in her hold.  And they stayed like that, her eyes entirely focused on their intertwined hands while he kept his gaze on her at a comfortable distance. 

* * *

   

(FLASHBACK, F, 11.5)

Two weeks after she started to talk again, they got kicked out of the godforsaken apartment that almost took the life out of her. 

And for that kind of a rent increase afterwards, Felicity didn't think it was too much to ask for a working heater - but not even a near death experience in the middle of last winter could deter the landlord. 

The place they've been staying at for the past month was twice the size of their old one bedroom, and the rent seemed to follow the pattern of Mr. Reed's mood - which had been more than reasonable lately since her mother had started spending an hour - or a night at his own place upstairs. 

Felicity only knew that because the front door had a kink to it that always squeaked whenever Donna would come back, and even in the dim of dawn she could see the smudged fuchsia on her mother's lips, the frizz from her curls, and the wrinkled dress that would reveal hand marks on the backs of her thighs. 

Donna stopped going to work. 

Again.

The pub her mother had begged for a part time position at stopped calling in after two weeks. But Felicity - still-unemployed-Felicity, had been too caught up with the sudden free time for middle school studies lately to constantly keep track of Donna's whereabouts, let alone notice. 

Ever since The Bronx, they could no longer afford to stay with Katie's modelling agency. And though the brunette had somewhat of a soft spot for the young blonde, clients were just not coming in for her anyway - not with these three year old headshots and an even less up to date portfolio. 

But Felicity had been going to school every weekday for almost three months now - the longest of which she could remember, and has taken up every and all free classes at the community centre nearby.  Her favourite so far to no surprise was the introduction to programming course. Felicity's fascination with the digital world has remained throughout her childhood - and though the almost tween was the shortest in class, she had no problem being the only one left awake from nine to eleven in the evening listening to the often times fumbling professor with a habit of getting lost in his own thoughts. 

Donna was usually nowhere to be seen when she came home from her evening classes.  Sometimes she'd leave a note on the fridge that she'd be back late, but today Felicity came home to hastily left five inch heels by the front door and a sniffling lump in the shape of her mother under the crumbled bed sheets. 

Before she could step in further however, the front door was kicked open - the kink losing its squeak as the hinges broke along with the loud bang against the wall. 

Felicity didn't need an explanation for what had just happened for the man that stormed in shortly afterwards answered that question quickly for her. 

At barely five foot herself, the whiskey stain of Mr. Reed's mouth stooped down right onto her level as his hand went to grip her entire face.

This was not the first time her skin had been burned red by the livid and drunken clutches of hands she couldn't defend herself from.  And so Felicity let reflexes take over as she held her breath discretely, clenched her teeth as hard as she could, and held their gaze as her landlord tightened his grip on her and spat.

It took all of her not to flinch when the ball of saliva hit the corner of her left eye and traveled slowly down towards her cheek. His breath soaked stained with firewater and smoke, his bulging dark eyes and in it - unbridled rage and misplaced frustration that were on the brink of losing all control, so much so that the eleven year old in Felicity almost whimpered.

Almost.

Cornered and impotent, she kept her teeth clenched, blue eyes staring back still void of as much fear as she could possibly burry deep within herself, and swallowed against the palm pressed against the tops of her throat. 

"Where's your whore mother," Mr. Reed growled, the unhinge in his gaze flickering wildly as the press of his fingers were beginning to crush the gum of her teeth and numb the trace of her jaw.

"You tell that bitch one grand by the end of this Friday or you two are going back onto the same street I found you in," he continued when he'd realized with the way he'd been holding her, she wouldn't be able to answer anyway.

Felicity followed the daze in his eyes as they left hers and travelled down towards the loose buttons on her worn out blouse before looking back up. And before the blonde could react, the hand wrapped around her face slipped down and torn most of the upper buttons with one go. 

Mr. Reed returned his hand to grasping her face as the other ran a rough finger down the bare skin of where the buttons once were. 

"Looks like the apple don't fall far from the tree huh," he leered and dissolved into laughter. "It makes me wanna know if you'd scream like her too."

He swiftly removed his hold on her afterwards and with both of her legs having not been touching the floor, Felicity dropped like poorly glued popsicle sticks against the now broken front door.  

"Some pieces of motherfucking trash..." Felicity heard him mutter as he turned to leave.

Still in the middle of her fairly well hidden panic attack, Felicity scrambled to get up and dug hastily into the kitchen cabinet for a bottle of Benadryl.  The trip to the drugstore was far cheaper than a physician's prescription, so the blonde opted to stock up on the antihistamines in hopes of sedating herself when the anxiety could no longer be tamed.

There was not enough muscle in her small body to lift the door back to cover it, so she sat in front of the opened entrance as if she could somehow be this house's protector - its bodyguard.

Her mother's bodyguard. 

She didn't count how many Benadryl she managed to swallow after willing her fingers to stop shaking, but she passed out as soon as her heart rate started to beat within double digits again. 

 

 

_For all of the light that I shut out,_

_For all of the innocent things that I've doubt._

_For all of the bruises that I've caused and the tears,_

_For all of the things that I've done all these years._

 

 

The evening was coming to a close, and despite the shameless begging Felicity had done with the club manager - he wouldn't budge in hiring Donna back.  She was running out of ideas, and Donna was running out of wine bottles to empty and throw against the wall that they couldn't afford. 

Felicity had stopped going to class.  With only three more days to deliver a thousand dollars, it was the only thing she could control.  But no lawns needed mowing in this neighbourhood, and there wasn't a lot someone like her could do in this city that could get her this much cash in this short amount of time - that wasn't illegal.  

Sighing, the blonde finished stacking the cans of non perishables onto the common shelves before folding in the empty cardboard boxes.  They can be traded in at about three cents per pound, she thought.  And not even all the boxes in this entire food bank could buy her rent on Friday. 

It was too easy to break down in this corner and just let the tears flow.  So she didn't. 

Taking in a deep breath, she continued folding until all the boxes were neatly stacked into a pile.  Two ladies at the front came to approach her when she was preparing to leave from her volunteer shift. 

"Look at you, Lissy. Just skin and bones left on you." The brunette frowned with concern.

"What are you doing here this late? Everyone's gone home." The older redhead remarked with the same tone. 

Felicity could only pull on the best smile she could afford and shrugged. "I was just about to take off - the boxes are at the back, all ready to recycle." 

The older woman nodded and sighed, "there are some pasta still in the kitchen, you might as well take some."

"That's okay Martha, I'm not really hungry -" 

The brunette cut in and began to push her towards the kitchen door. "Nonsense girl, I could've heard your stomach growling from a mile away."

 

...

 

Felicity sped through the alley as quietly as she could towards the apartment building, the streetlight providing the opposite of comfort for a child at night in this part of the city.  Her hands holding onto cold spaghetti sandwiched between two paper plates as a makeshift container - to which she gently placed down as she carefully maneuvered the front door to their apartment.

Her first sight was Donna's head laid on the table - her eyes barely open and this morning's mess of wine bottles left uncleaned.

Carefully, Felicity placed the plate of pasta on the table and turned on the tap to fill up Donna's glass with water.  Turning back, she gently nudged her mother until she lifted herself up. 

"Here, drink this." Felicity pushed the glass forward. 

"What's that?" Donna mumbled, tilting her head at the plate. 

"Spaghetti from the kitchen at the food bank."

"I'm not gonna eat all that," the older blonde turned up her nose. "God the smell is making me nauseous." 

Standing up, Donna stumbled her way into the bathroom and laid down.  The cold tiles bringing her temporary relief to her drunkenness.  

Having made sure her mother was lying on her side, Felicity returned to the kitchen table and stared at the cold plate of pasta.

Her stomach was still grumbling despite her plateful back at the food bank.  She hasn't eaten before then all day, and without smoking half a pack a day - her appetite was more apparent than ever. 

She was halfway into her second helping when Donna tumbled in from the bathroom.  The fork in her hand was slapped away and before Felicity could realize, her chair was swiftly pulled back.  Quickly losing balance, she fell backwards with the chair until her head hit the carpet. 

"Didn't you already eat back at the bank?" She heard Donna bark above her as she'd begun to pick herself back up. 

"I did, but I -"

"Don't you ever want to model again?" Donna continued, as if she hadn't heard her.  The alcohol and stress written clear on her face as she dragged Felicity by the hair down the hall. "This is why no one called us in for a job in months - if you could just learn to have some fucking self control Felicity!"

Moving quickly so the pain from her hair wouldn't extend further, her body followed Donna into the bathroom as the woman shoved her head down facing the toilet. 

"Throw it up Felicity." She ordered.

There were tear streaks down Felicity's cheeks that have gone unnoticed. The swift movements have caused some of the contents in her stomach to move up - and her head was still spinning from the fall. 

"I _said,_ throw the shit up Felicity!" Donna screamed, shaking her head back and forth and further into the toilet.

Having a shallow gag reflex, it didn't take long before the little blonde began to empty her dinner chunk by chunk until the taste of bitter bile was all that she could smell.

Donna finally let her hair go when there was nothing left and Felicity's face was left resting on the toilet seat - panting, with snot rolling down her lips and mouth dried from the loss of fluids. 

Donna broke down then, the hysteria gradually turning into ugly sobs as she slid down the wall of the bathroom and wrapped her arms around her legs. 

Felicity wanted to comfort her - tell her she knows this isn't what she'd wanted.  But her throat burnt of acid, and her muscles ached of days' labour.

So she didn't move, kept her grimy face plastered onto the toilet seat.

And neither did Donna, as her cries broke into hiccups then into silence as the mother and daughter fell slowly to sleep on the floor of the 6 by 8 bathroom. 

Both empty in the stomach, hoping tomorrow wasn't going to come. 

* * *

  

She avoided looking in the mirror.

Sara and a few of the staff from hair and makeup came over an hour before they had to leave, leaving Oliver in the living area while they turned the hotel bathroom into a vanity in the matter of seconds.

Taking interest in her work schedule once more, Felicity scrolled through the calendar on her tablet while the team whipped her face into shape and exchanged her t shirt for a peplum two piece. 

The team headed to the venue first as they were already dressed up, while Felicity and Oliver waited back until Mr. Diggle came over with the car.  

"Weird you're not driving now," she mentioned as Oliver fixed his tie before putting on his suit jacket. 

"You liked me driving you?" Oliver asked, his brow raised just slightly. 

Felicity shrugged shyly before muttering, "I wasn't complaining." 

Oliver offered her a small smirk before retrieving her purse in the closet to hang from his shoulder - the short handle fitting snug around the thickness of his bicep. Unhooking her coat, Felicity insisted her muscles weren't as stiff anymore so Oliver stood behind the blonde as she pushed her arms through the sleeves. 

Felicity took a deep breath before looking up at her bodyguard, his suit alike the rest of the security team - except for the fuchsia purse hanging from his arm.  

His gaze steady and sure.

She pulled open the door.

 

...

 

Her official (and terrifying) press conference wasn't until tomorrow, so there was no swarm of paparazzi awaiting upon their arrival to the club. 

Oliver swiftly escorted her with familiar ease into the back entrance, down to the private room they've rented for the evening to host her back to work affair.

The party was already in full swing by the time she'd arrived, thanks to the efforts of Sara and her team.  Looking around the room of people, she'd found a renewed sense of determination to not only do things better and different this time around - but succeed in doing so.  The feeling fell like bricks onto her delicate shoulders, but she'd thought she would wear it well. 

Borrowing the mic from the in house DJ, Felicity welcomed everyone with a toast - her glass filled with the water Oliver'd packed for her.  "I want to thank each and every one of you for working so terribly hard while I was away.  The tab is open all night so please enjoy yourselves - and a Happy Early New Years, here's to another successful one and I can't wait to make you all proud." 

 

 

_For all of the sparks that I've stomped out,_

_For all of the perfect things that I doubt._

 

 

Her eyes roamed through the sea of inebriation in search of his, but was left empty handed.

There was no better metaphor for being lost than standing alone in the middle of a party thrown in her honour. 

After months of having her interactions being limited to only one other person - in a suburban town with not a single mall, let alone nightclub, it was difficult to be put back into a space where personal bubbles never existed.

Felicity felt every sound, smell and touch ten times louder than how they really were, and it was getting to her.

The room pounding music that shook the ground beneath her, the rubbing of sweaty shoulders in passing, and the smell of alcohol that tingled like nostalgia in her nose. 

Slowly, but surely.

God, she hasn't had a whiff of liquor since she'd emptied all of her's into the sink almost two months ago.

But she'd forgotten how drunk she could get just from its smell.  And it was as if taking the most opportune time, Felicity felt a gaze on her.

_His._

Felicity spun around to find him looking at her from across the room, near the exit.  He tilted his head towards it and waited for her response. 

And before her head could make up its mind, the blonde's feet began to move on its own - towards him.

"Is something wrong?" She'd mouthed amidst the dubstep, concern laced in her tone when she'd finally reached him.

There was secrecy and something else she could only identify as eagerness in his eyes when he shook his head slightly in return.  Followed by a gentle hand against her lower back, Oliver lowered himself to speak into her ear.

"Come with me." 

Felicity tilted her head towards him in confusion. "Where are we going?"

Oliver simply smiled at her before reaching for her hand and tugging her out of the back exit, her purse and jacket already on his other arm. 

Felicity let herself be led out to the parking area - spotting a familiar grey outback parked in the reserved spot. 

"Oliver, where are we going?" She repeated, pulling at their intertwined hands the best she could, which wasn't much. 

Oliver brought them both to a stop in front of the outback and opened the passenger door for her. 

"You said you liked my driving," he shrugged, a hint of mirth shadowing his mouth when she pouted in response. 

"Still doesn't answer my question."  Felicity uttered as she dutifully climbed inside, before Oliver bent in to drape her jacket from behind and her purse on top of her lap. 

"It's a surprise." He quipped, winking as he shut the door to the passenger seat. 

 

...

 

Not a lot of things were opened at ten on a Monday evening, but Oliver proved her wrong when he drove them to lone two story building.  It was too dark to fully make out the welcome sign, but the word animal caught her attention as they drove into the parking lot. 

"Are we at a shelter?" She asked as Oliver turned off the engine.  He simply gave her a small smile. 

"This is way past their closing time Oliver, what are we even doing here?" She pushed on, her mind spinning a mile per minute. 

But before she could ask another question, Felicity found herself and Oliver being led into the entrance by a lively looking man in his 20's. 

"Welcome to the LA county animal shelter," the man - who introduced himself as Evan in his bright orange work t-shirt greeted. 

"Thank you for taking the time to show us around on such short notice, Evan." Oliver shook his hand politely. 

"No problem at all," The young man smiled, turning to acknowledge Felicity. "I'm a big fan." 

Felicity looked at Oliver and was about to say something before Evan cut in quickly. 

"Don't worry - I didn't tell anyone that you were coming in."

Relief washed over Felicity as she gave the man a look of appreciation before thanking him. 

Evan left them alone in the room after introducing them to the dogs, most of them barely awake in their individual kennels. 

Felicity and Oliver strolled up and down the vicinity, each wall a line of dog kennels.  It was hard not to immediately fawn over them as Felicity kneeled in front of each of their windows so she could be at eye level with the canines.  Most of them were too tired to react to her presence, although there were a few younger ones that bounded with eager expressions. 

It wasn't until she rounded to the end of the room where she spotted an adult greyhound lying limply in the corner far from the window.  Felicity bent down and gently tapped the glass twice, and one of its droopy eyelids opened up at the sound. 

The greyhound tilted its head to the side and took its time to observe her.

Felicity simply offered it a small but genuine smile, and after a while of gazing up at each other - the dog reservedly gathered its legs into a standing position and slowly came towards the window. 

It kept a reasonable distance against the glass, unlike the younger ones from earlier that nearly pressed their faces to the window.  But Felicity kept her palm open against the glass until the greyhound came closer almost as if to sniff it.

"He likes you."

Felicity turned to see Evan bent beside her, and Oliver standing right behind him. 

"He?"

Evan nodded and pointed to the information card taped on the side. "Lennox - an ex racer. Got injured too many times before he was brought here."

Looking at the dog, Felicity noticed weakness in one of his back legs - and a tail end of a scar on his side that disappeared into his front. 

"He doesn't like to socialize much, I'm surprised he got up for you." He added. "Would you like to pet him?"

Felicity's eyes widened just a little at that. "Would, would that be okay with him?"

Evan grinned, "I have a feeling you two are going to get along just fine."

 

...

 

"I like this." Oliver said, his hand on the wheel and his eyes on the road. 

Felicity had been gazing back forth at him and the crate in the backseat. 

"What?" Her head snapped back, her attention stolen from him again. 

"You, smiling." He turned his gaze briefly to meet her's before focusing back onto the evening traffic. "It looks good on you."

Felicity folded in her lips. 

"I can't believe I got a dog - just like that." She shook her head slightly in disbelief. "I know I'm not touring anymore and I can bring him to work if I need to - but I've, I have no idea how to take care of him."

"That's what I'm here for," Oliver assured her as he took a turn into the familiar neighbourhood of Ivy Town. "I've had my fair share of family dogs."

The radio playing in the background provided a peaceful silence between the two as Oliver drove them back to The House.

Felicity couldn't take her eyes off of her new greyhound. He didn't look like he was used to car travel - initially she wanted to take him out of the crate to hold him in the passenger seat, but she'd trusted that both Evan and Oliver knew better than her in terms of dog care. 

"Why did you take me there tonight?" She'd asked softly, head laid to the side against the seat. 

"I thought maybe you needed it." He replied after a while, his eyes unwavering when he shifted them to meet her's. "Was I right?"

Felicity broke their gaze unconsciously to think, as Oliver parked their outback into the garage. 

The two stayed seated in the dark, unmoving, after he pulled the keys out to shut off the engine.  Somehow then, it was easier for Felicity to fully look at him without feeling an innate sense to shift away when words hit too hard. 

"I don't think anyone noticed I was gone from the club, but could you make sure that Waller knows I'm not dead?" She changed the subject instead, keeping her tone light. 

When she didn't say anything else after a while, Oliver turned on one of the lights on the rear view mirror and unbuckled his seatbelt.

They were facing one another now, with the armrest separating the two seats. And in the dim lighting, the blue of both their eyes gleamed with something. 

"It's a bit unfair to define someone by simply  _good..._ or _bad_ ," he stated.  The comment was seemingly out of the blue before Felicity could recall their earlier conversation from back at the hotel.  _"Am I a good person Oliver?"_

"But everybody needs someone," he conceded. 

_"Like how mom needed you today, and yet you couldn't wait to send her away with another cheque.  Why don't you tell him that, huh? When will you learn that money can't erase everything Lissy -"_

Their bodies seemed to have unconsciously leaned closer together as the warmth of his breath tickled lightly against the bridge of her nose, making her crinkle them out of reflex.  The action captivated Oliver's attention briefly before his eyes drew back up, and what she could've described as fondness wrinkled softly into a smile.  "Maybe Lennox can be that person for you - for now."

_Until you're ready for someone real._

 

 

_I'll be good, I'll be good._

_And I'll love the world, like I should._

_Yeah, I'll be good, I'll be good._

_For all of the times I never could._

_For all of the times I never could._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Some life has happened - as life does. But I'm back and thanks for continuing to give this story a read.
> 
> 2\. Referenced back in ch10 at Oliver's cabin, Ray Palmer's here to help F make two important decisions. 
> 
> 3\. After her first visit in ch3, Donna has made her return. Her urgency for wanting to stay with F will play out in ch16. 
> 
> 4\. Marshmallow Unicorn by Rachel Sermanni is my favourite song to cry to. 
> 
> 5\. Next on Body Check - Returning to life under the limelight, Felicity tries to do things differently this time. 
> 
> Also, Samantha. 
> 
>  
> 
> Thoughts? I'd love to know them in the comments or on maverickyoung.tumblr.com.


	15. Medicine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Medicine - Daughter - https://youtu.be/sf6mkYz4mx0

(Flashback, F, 12) 

Donna was in love again.  

After losing their place in New York, they poured the last of their savings for the cheapest flight back to the Silver State. And it wasn't long before someone took interest in the Barbie-like duo, who would walk past the construction site everyday from the hostel.

Brian wasn't unlike the rest of what Donna would've referred to as rednecks who took up in this part of town.  But for the moment, the forty year old seemed to be completely taken by Donna's youth and free spirit, and easily bonded over their shared fondness for the hard liquors and cigars. 

The courtship was immediate and as soon as Brian had found out that they'd been crashing at the hostel without a permanent address, he'd asked Donna to move in with him during their third dinner date. 

Felicity didn't expect to be given a voice in the matter, and she wasn't.  But the blonde had also never seen her mother's eyes shine like that when they arrived at the two story suburban home the next morning. 

 

_..._

 

"This is the last call for the checkout counter.  Please begin to log off the computers as the library will be closing in ten minutes, Thank you."

Glancing up at the clock hanging on the wall, Felicity dusted herself off from her corner of the floor - which she had only deemed as her's in her head.  She'd been once again engrossed in Stephen Hawking's  _A Brief History in Time._ And today, she'd finally dived into the sixth and most awaited chapter - the theory of black holes. 

Memorizing the page number where she'd left off, Felicity returned the book to the shelf before making her way to the grocery store. 

After moving into Brian's house, Felicity enrolled into the district's public middle school.  Her daily schedule was pretty much the same as when they were in New York.  She was in school for most parts of the day, and then she'd spent the afternoon in the library if there were no free activities happening at the community centre.  One difference however, was the sudden role of homemaker she'd assumed when they'd arrived. 

It made sense, as there were now two extra people living here - extra clothes to wash, dry and fold. More food to buy, stock and cook.  And thrice the dishes, sheets and spaces to clean. 

Brian had barely achieved any of those things himself before they'd moved in, and Donna was never one to let this aspect of life get inside her head when there were things to enjoy and people to do them with. 

So naturally, Felicity returned from the corner store every night with frozen lasagnas or packaged dinners - and had somehow learned how to toss a salad without poking herself in the eye. 

The meals when placed on the table looked homemade, and Brian could've cared less as long as it came under the budget and there were enough whiskey to go with it.  

It wasn't that Brian had ignored her presence so far, because he did acknowledge her roles in the house - evident by the grocery money he'd leave on the counter before heading for work every morning.  And he'd often asked her if his favourite red t shirt was in the washer, and if it was - when it would be dried and put back into his closet. 

What Brian never asked was everything else; how her day at school went, if she could hear the moans her mother would make each night between the paper thin walls.  What her favourite colour was, or whether she'd thought Die Hard was considered a Christmas movie or not. 

He'd seemed more confused than surprised when she excitedly told him and Donna over dinner one night that she'd been advanced to the eighth grade math, science, and english curriculum.

It didn't take long before Felicity had realized that the only thing Brian had probably cared to know about her was her name, and he was fine with leaving it at that.  So Felicity quickly had learned to okay with it too. 

There was just that small part of her.

That relentless, lingering, and perhaps naive part of her that thought if this one had  _stayed_ \- he could've been the first father she'd ever had. 

Or perhaps fathers were simply supposed to be like Brian, and the ones she'd seen picking up her classmates from school or the one she'd thought Noah would've been were just not in the works for her. 

And Felicity wondered, if she would ever learn to be okay with that too.  

 

 

_Pick it up, pick it all up._

_And start again._

_You've got a second chance, you could go home._

 

 

Felicity was excited for the first in a very long time. 

It was her first day sitting in the eighth grade class, and despite arriving early - there was already a seating plan in place, so she walked through the rows until she found one without a name tag in the back corner of the classroom. 

No one batted an eye or turned their heads back to look at her when the office administrator came in to introduce their new student. 

Felicity took a quick glance around and noticed that the teacher must have intervened some time already during the year as the talkers were all placed in the front of the classroom, while those who'd kept to themselves were all placed in the back along with herself. 

It had put a small but hopeful smile on her face, that she could finally have the space and take the time to learn without the distractions of hormonal eyes, spiteful mouths, or the curiosity that often came with being the new kid. 

Mr. Harris was a nice change of scenery.  He looked like the young entrepreneurs that belonged on the busy streets of New York instead of in a desert suburban middle school classroom. 

And he taught like one too.  Despite being able to power through novels and explain the rules of poetry, Felicity was never quite into English literature until Mr. Harris.  He had seemed to taken note of the blonde in the back of his class after walking around during one of their quizzes, one she had already finished but waited until a good amount of people had gotten up before also handing it in. 

Day after day, he would notice Felicity writing down the answers to his questions that no one would take interest in raising their hands to answer.  Or perhaps none of them knew the answers - even though they were always in the readings form the night before. 

As usual, Felicity was the last one to finish packing up her things to leave for lunch.  She didn't like lunch for a number of reasons.  The most obvious would be the lack of food she'd packed, but there was also the fact that everyone including her was pushed out into the playgrounds for a whole forty minutes.  The outside was loud, full of people and flying balls she didn't have the strength or coordination to avoid.  

So she liked dragging out this process for as long as she could.  Most of the time, Mr. Harris just smiled amusedly at Felicity as she took as her sweet time packing.  Sometimes he'd indulged her by asking her to erase the blackboard and she'd agree appreciatively.

Their interactions have always been one of few words, but today as she begrudgingly made her way towards the door, Mr. Harris called her name as she passed by where he sat at his desk. 

"Yes, Mr. Harris?" She turned around, her stick-like arms wrapped around the textbooks she couldn't fit inside her beaten up backpack.

Duct tape could only work for so long.

"I meant to ask before, but how have you been adjusting to this class?"

"Oh um," Felicity mumbled - her voice box unused to speaking during school hours. "It's going well I think. You're really good. I mean, you teach good - that's not a sentence what I meant was... you're a good teacher."  She finished with her eyes shut, her hands unable to face palm herself as they were still knuckle white from the weight she was carrying.  

Mr. Harris simply smiled in kind before reaching underneath his desk to pull out a large shopping bag and placed it on his desk towards her. 

"Go ahead, open it." He said. "It's for you."

Felicity stared at the bag, then at him - but the man only urged her on with an encouraging smile.  With hesitance, she took a peek inside to find a brand new pastel ombre backpack, and its surroundings scattered with random stationary supplies instead of stuffing paper. 

"I didn't know what colour you liked, so I thought a mix would do."

Felicity looked up from the bag to meet his waiting gaze with confusion, but before she could say anything - her small and now sweaty hands slipped from her own hold and the textbooks quickly made their descent onto the floor with a bang. 

"I'm sorry I -" Felicity began to apologize before being waved off by Mr. Harris as he made his way around the desk and bent down to gather her books before she could. 

"I think it's time to ditch the old sack don't you think?" He said as he began to place her textbooks inside the new school bag, packing the stationary along with it. 

It seemed silly but Felicity couldn't help but remain standing there - stiff limbed and overwhelmed.  It'd been... longer than she could've remembered, since someone had taken genuine notice of her - let alone notice the duct taped patches on her bag or the fact that the pencil she'd been using for the past school year had gotten shorter than the length of her ring finger. 

"I'd like to believe that every student of mine gets the chance to succeed."  He continued, zipping the bag close before pushing it towards her across the desk. "I happen to have some more books for you to read, so it'd be unfair for me to ask that of you when you don't have something to hold them in." 

Her attention was delightfully captivated. "... More books?" Felicity asked instead - intrigue covering her young eyes.  

 

...

 

Felicity began to look forward to her lunch breaks. 

Every Monday to Friday when the clock ticked eleven and the rest of the class had quickly cleared out, Mr. Harris would call her to his desk and they would share thoughts on the latest book he'd given her.  

Felicity had never felt like this before.

He let her talk most of the times, only offering short commentary and pushed for more elaboration when she would cut herself off after a ramble. 

Not to say they didn't debate, because they did.  Felicity was scared to at first when they'd reached their very first differing opinions on _Jane Eyre_ \- Mr. Harris challenged her to disagree with him and brought out the fire that he said he knew was already inside. 

"It's all about perspective in the end, Felicity." Mr. Harris concluded as they closed up on their two hour long discussion about the characterization of Bertha Mason. 

Their book talks have since extended to after school hours, and even though that often took out some of the library time she had before dinner - Felicity couldn't deny but welcome the rare company. 

"I guess we'll just have to continue tomorrow," Felicity quipped, a small but playful smile dancing across her face.

It'd only been three weeks since the blonde had transferred to Mr. Harris' class, but there was confidence in the way she talked now.  She could even feel herself stand a littler taller when she walked through the halls of the school.  It was an exciting change to realize, that even Donna took note of it when she returned with dinner one night.

"You mean Monday?" He winked before Felicity realized what she'd said.

"Right - Monday. Because tomorrow's not Monday but Saturday and I won't be seeing you as there's no school and that would not make any sense or -" 

Felicity kept her babbling on until Mr. Harris put a hand on her knee to put it to rest.  Her smile was sheepish as she folded in her lips, but it only widened his.

"You know the bookstore I was telling you about, they're holding a reading event tomorrow. If you'd like, I'd love to take you along."

"Tomorrow as in Saturday?"

"Tomorrow as in Saturday."

Felicity's eyes lit up as she nodded with earnest before her mouth, and her excitement got the better of her once more. "I'll have to finish cleaning tonight and put a load of laundry in earlier but I think I can get them done." 

Mr. Harris just chuckled lightly and tightened his hold on her knee once more. "I'll pick you up tomorrow, ten o'clock sharp."

 

(End of Flashback)

* * *

There was an uncomfortable amount of condensation gathering around her ass cheeks as she greeted the next round of reporters taking their seats at the round table. 

Her hair was in an updo so she wouldn't have any curls left hanging to play with, her nails freshly gel manicured to prevent her fingers from picking at them without chipping, but the romper she was wearing wasn't helping as parts of her ass made themselves home by sticking to the plastic chair.  

It was however a nice distraction from how important today was. 

Her first set of press interviews since last year. 

It was already eleven in the morning, and Felicity had woken up just three hours ago to the soft barks of Lennox from the living room.

As quickly as she could, she had climbed out of bed and threw on her robe to check on him - but by the time the blonde had stepped out of her room, her bodyguard - who was already dressed in full gear - seemed to have beaten her to the chase.

She could've easily stayed leaned against that pillar and watched as Lennox sighed in content while Oliver took the time to stroke his back on the carpet, while pouring the greyhound a fresh bowl of water along with his breakfast.

But real life was about to kick her in less than an hour when the rest of the crew arrived. 

So Felicity diligently finished her own piece of toast with jam that Oliver had left on the kitchen counter, before thoroughly cleaning her face in preparation for a full day wear of makeup. 

Everything was thought of to make this morning go as smoothly as possible. 

"I absolutely love your necklace!" 

Felicity looked down at the jewelry that was given to her for today and thanked the reporter before telling her the brand.

"It looks fantastic, and so do you! Is it too early to say that you're ready to tour once more?" The redhead asked, pushing her recorder forward on the table. 

With practiced ease, Felicity offered a gentle head shake before announcing her next project.  Her shy tentativeness only furthered her allure to the cameras. 

"What can you tell us about this new project?"

"Not much, yet." Felicity provided ambiguously. "But it's something that I've never ever done before.  It's to be honest... a little out of my comfort zone."

Just as expected, a reporter from ET pushed for a little more. "Can you say anything? Perhaps if it's music related or not at all?"

Felicity looked to be at a crossroad for a moment before pretending to give in. "... I can tell you that it _is_ music related. _And_... that I'm not alone in this endeavour." 

With that said, Sara came to the table and thanked everyone for coming.  Along with Mr. Diggle and the rest of his team, Felicity was swiftly escorted out of the building and into the town car. 

Sara gave her a discrete pat on the back as she climbed into the back seat after her, and Felicity closed her eyes in relief.

She did okay. 

"Felicity! Looking gorgeous, is it true you're in on Ray Palmer's next project?"

"Is Ray the secret collaborator?"

"How long have you two known each other?"

Her return to the world had attracted news outlets and paparazzi from all over the nation as they crowded around the moving vehicle from the venue.  It was ironic, really.  That she'd somehow gotten herself into a career where the camera would be the most familiar face she'd know in every room.

Yet with every flash, she felt the lead pushing in closer to her chest.  And even after all this time, she still could not will herself to acknowledge what it was. 

It could've been her sensitivity to light, or her tendency to remain rather unseen.  Or perhaps it was the unbridgeable divide between the life she was born into, and the life she'd remembered once thinking she could one day have. 

Felicity settled inside the new car, quickly hanging a scent tree so she wouldn't throw up in it, before pulling out her earphones and sunglasses to dampen her senses, leaning away from the already tinted window.  A routine her muscle memory had prepared her for.

And it was amongst the commotion of background static and her eye closing that Felicity had realized the seat beside her was not occupied by Oliver. 

 

...

 

The midday sun peeked through the opened blinds and found their way onto the white bedsheets in the office Felicity had been sleeping in.

With a glass of water,  the blonde settled against the window with her laptop and took a deep breath. 

The quiet was an unnerving occurrence she'd not experienced sober before, or in the agonizing company of withdrawal. 

But Sara had sent over a list of things to approve on and a folder of unread emails to reply to, so Felicity put on a chatty radio station in the background as she mindlessly scrolled down her inboxes for urgent subject lines.

Her brain however, was not easily as distracted. 

Oliver would usually be firing up the grill during these hours, or have dragged her along with him to the nearest Whole Foods in the city.  But The House was unfamiliar as of now, with Mr. Diggle settling down in the living room with today's newspaper and Lennox at the vet getting checked out with Sara. 

There was a feeling of being left behind that she couldn't identify or fully admit to.  Other than the small fact that on her way to her room from the press interview, Felicity had paused by his door to take a peek into his room - shaking her head to leave only after seeing that his things were still inside. 

Sighing, Felicity turned back to the click on the spam folder that was blowing up - realizing her personal Facebook was still sending her email notifications. 

God, when was the last time she'd logged into that thing. 

The newsfeed gave into memory lane as she was reminded of her earlier days in New York.  There were sixty three friend requests in her notifications, filled with names of whom were equally as familiar as they were not.  

And then one hit her in chest harder than the rest.

Her fingers seized on the trackpad along with her next breath, as her eyes refused to move away from the name amongst the list of people she may know.  

If Felicity could move her mouth she would've laughed at the irony, but her head was playing as her own adversary and her finger somehow gathered enough movement to click on the name. 

With every picture that loaded onto the public timeline, another piece of the shell she'd been using as a body cracked open until _his_ eyes loomed across one of them beside _her_ growing belly - a _congratulations, it's a girl_ banner hanging on the wall behind them.

His smile looked like fangs in still motion as if they could see her looking.

The body _broke_ , and then she tumbled out along with it.   And suddenly, the world became as small as she was. 

For a brief moment, Felicity saw her reflection in the black parts of the screen - stripped of every past she'd swallowed to get herself here.

And the blonde couldn't help but see those frightened eyes looking out of her own - as if after all this time, the feeble little girl in Vegas had never left. 

She shut down her laptop. 

 

 

_Escape it all._

_It's just irrelevant._

_It's just medicine._

_It's just medicine._

 

 

"I'm going to arrange a MRI scan to see but I'm confident to say it probably isn't related to the withdrawal." 

Felicity nodded as she raised herself up from the exam table. 

Felicity had not been here since her deterioration at the end of last year, and she'd felt horrible about the home visits she had the brunette do during that time, knowing the physician was still going through her divorce. 

But the persistent muscle pain and morning stiffness did not sit well with the already fatigue and mental withdrawal she was still trying to escape from.  And her meds were ran dry as of last night.

It'd been a long new year.

"I saw someone today." Felicity said, putting her coat back on before taking a seat on the sofa across from the brunette.  

Caitlin looked up from the stack of prescriptions she had been signing, a hint of surprise in her expression that the blonde had started a conversation.

And if the brunette had looked closely enough, she would see the woman replaced by a child unable to grow out into her own body. 

"Her name showed up, on the people I may know tab on Facebook."  Her gaze having fallen onto a spot on the coffee table between them.  Here, Felicity's voice was higher, softer, artless - that it almost overshadowed the slight rasp she was known to have now. "I... I saw _him,_  in her baby shower pictures."

Before Caitlin could filter through her head the list of people it could've been, Felicity did her one better. 

"Meredith Larson." The blonde answered the unspoken question, and Caitlin's eyes softened before gently placing down her papers. 

There was silence between them as the doctor waited for her direction.  Felicity had seemed to be in another one of her trances, blinking every few seconds at the same spot on the coffee table.

Then she lowered her head.

Her arms and legs tucked into the sofa seat spoke volumes - it spoke of shame. Still.

"He's... he's going to be a _father_ , to a _little girl_." Her barely audible whisper somehow making the silence stiller. "... And I chose not to say anything."

"You were a _child_." The doctor insisted gently.  Which the blonde easily ignored. 

"He's a published author now."  Felicity shook her head incredulously - weakly brewed bitterness laced within the cracks of her voice. "has a five year old named Kyle, and his wife's name still shows up on my feed like... like he's just... like he's just someone I may know." 

When she'd finished, the sofa had seemed much bigger than when she began.  But then again, she'd always been good at making herself smaller. 

"You can say what he is, you know."  Her psychiatrist said in kind, and another trail of stillness entailed. 

"I can never truly leave, can I." Felicity finally looked up from the table, where Caitlin could see clearly the eyes of a child she'd thought was long left behind. "They always come back - the past... even on fucking Facebook."

* * *

(Flashback, F, 12)

Ten o'clock sharp, Mr. Harris's white Cruz drove up the driveway just as the hand on her watch passed the number twelve.  

She wondered for a brief moment if he'd ever been to this part of the neighbourhood. 

Ever since Felicity could remember, Donna had always taken pride in their appearances - regardless of their financial situation.  She remembered asking her mother multiple time why they won't put the extra money into a savings account instead of getting their hair done every week, to which Donna would look back at her with confusion.

_"It'll help out when we don't have as much, for rent or something." Felicity would explain._

_"Sure, but it could also help improve my self-esteem."  Donna would tell her. "And at times like these, what's really more important?"_

"Good morning, Ms. Darling." 

Snapping out of her thoughts, the young blonde smiled widely at her English teacher as he walked around the car to open the passenger seat for her. 

Mr. Harris seemed to have respected the age regulation put in place for front seaters as much as her mother.

But twelve was always an age of blurred lines.  

 

...

 

Mr. Harris fit right into the reading event at the The Writer's Block.

Amongst the crowd of native Vegas authors and indie writers, Felicity stuck out like a sore thumb - a pretty one, Mr. Harris would've added.

She'd put on her least worn item of clothing, which was a pale pink dress and an A line that ran through into thin straps on her shoulders.  Donna had picked it out for her at a department store immediately after a lady who'd offered to give them a ride into the city thought that they were poor. 

Felicity insisted profusely that she'd rather get a safe place to stay instead, while Donna shook her head and questioned how her own daughter could've say such a thing. 

"She didn't mean to offend us," Felicity had tried to explain, in defence of the well meaning car lady. "We were standing in the middle of the road with our clothes in pillow cases, hoping to hitch a ride."

Felicity continued on as she opened the washroom stall, after Donna had hurried her in to put on the brand new dress.  Her mother smiled with pride at the small blonde when she came out and clapped happily as she twirled her daughter around the mall washroom - showing her off to the ladies washing their hands at the counter. 

"Come on kid, will you stop being so serious? It scares me sometimes." Donna would say before swinging their intertwined hands out the door.  "Have I _ever_ let you down?"   

They were three rows from the stage where a spoken poet was starting his first piece for the morning.  Mr. Harris returned to the seat beside her with two cups of coffee from the refreshment stand. 

"You know, if there's time afterwards they usually have open mics." He whispered as he handed her one of the cups. "I've read your poems, they're quite good."

Felicity just looked up at him in surprise. "You do?"

Mr. Harris simply wrapped his hand around her wrist and deadpanned. "Well I certainly hope you're not under impression that I just hand out A's freely."

Felicity shook her head wildly, eyes widened and her lips folded into each other - causing him to smile amusedly at her. 

She didn't notice until the reading finished that Mr. Harris' hand had remained enveloped around her wrist. 

 

_..._

 

"What's this?" 

The trips to The Writer's Block have quickly turned to a weekly event, along with the daily additions of milkshakes at an out of city diner after school.  Felicity had stopped going to the library, having ran out of free time to do so - but Mr. Harris and her have started a book club of their own where they'd spend hours discussing about the latest novel they've chosen to read. 

She could never stop smiling when she was with him.  The creaking space somewhere between her little chest and her sour stomach that she never knew was empty - was slowly being filled for the first time. 

This immediate bond was the most exciting and new for Felicity, having never had someone who was so much as interested in knowing her opinions - or just to be willing to spend their hard earned time with.  This must've been what the kids with those fathers who picked them up after school felt like, or those girls during recess who would share lunches and stories about their worst fears.  

They were sitting in his car at a new diner a bit further from the last one when Mr. Harris grabbed a white box from the trunk and placed it onto her lap.

"I hope you'll wear it for my reading tomorrow." He said as Felicity opened the box to reveal a rose pattern dress with a sweetheart neck.

"Do you like it?" He asked, his gaze fully on her as if to will her's to turn and meet his. 

Felicity swiftly closed the box and nodded with a sweet smile. 

 

...

 

Mr. Harris had been writing a book for the past year, and tonight was his first reading at The Writer's Block.

Keeping her promise, Felicity stood awaiting by the driveway in the rose pattern dress he bought her and paired them with the only pair of flats she owned. It was chilly that evening but they were going to be indoors for the remainder of the night anyways.

It didn't however, stop Felicity's hands from fidgeting with the hem of the dress that ended mid thigh.

Mr. Harris was smiling throughout the entire evening.  Felicity was given a seat in the front row and cheered her teacher on as the rest of the audience stood and applauded him. 

He spent the rest of the evening chatting with fellow writers, all while keeping his hand spanned across her back as he led them throughout the crowd.  Felicity kept her eyes up at him most of the time, listening to him speak so passionately with people about his work. 

It gave her the inspiration to maybe stand up there one day herself too. 

Mr. Harris had said that she was even smart enough for Brown or MIT, and she thought that maybe she was on her way of believing him too. 

"You must be very proud of your dad." A smiling older couple came up to her after Mr. Harris excused himself from the conversation to use the washroom. 

"My dad?" 

"Is Andrew not your father?" The woman asked, confusion swept across her face. 

"Mr. Harris?" Felicity shook her head. "No I'm a student of his. I'm in his English class."

The expressions on the couple seemed to suddenly change at the answer.  They were very much ready to withdraw from the conversation before quickly offering her an awkward smile. "We do apologize, you two just seemed... very close with each other that's all."

Felicity watched them swiftly retreat to another group, leaving her unease by their comment - which she covered well when Mr. Harris made his return and brought his hand back, now circled around her waist. 

As the night drew to a close, Mr. Harris led her by the hand towards his car to drive her back to her house. 

"Thank you for coming tonight," He smiled at her easily when they were both sat in his Cruz. "You look... so lovely."

Despite the weeks that have gone by,  Felicity still had not gotten used to the compliments he would give her on the daily.  Hence the automatic blush that spread down her entire body. 

Mr. Harris seemed to have also taken notice of the little goosebumps appearing on her bare arms.

"It's pretty chilly huh," Mr. Harris said as he moved to turn on the heater before reaching to cover the exposed length of both her thighs. "This better?"

"The heater's good," Felicity nodded - choosing her words carefully.  The comment from the couple earlier in the night coming to the forefront of her mind. 

His hand however, slowly continued up her thighs where it was covered by the dress and the motion immediately caused her legs to clench up.

Mr. Harris swiftly retreated his hand and turned the key in the ignition without another word, all the while Felicity had kept her head lowered to the window side - unable to turn around and make any sort of eye contact.

The rest of the drive was unceremoniously silent until the car broke into a stop when they'd reached the driveway to her house. 

Felicity turned her head around to thank him for the ride, only to have his face already leaned towards her's from across the console.  And for a brief enough moment, she was shocked by how close they were that she'd forgotten she could've moved away.

He must've sensed that too as he took the opportunity to grip the point of her chin up with one hand, while the other came around to tuck a loose curl to the back of her ear. "You've made this night very wonderful, Felicity."

And for once in her twelve years of existence, Felicity was left tongue tied.  Her mouth had swollen up, and the prickles up her spine had paralyzed her little body while her eyes were glued to Mr. Harris' darker ones as he ran his fingers slowly up and down her cheeks.

There was intention in his strokes, and she had to admit to herself that she no longer felt safe with him.

And perhaps she never was. 

Loneliness had its way of warping the mind. 

"I - I have to go, Mr. Harris." Felicity managed to mumble out before fumbling for the door handle - which he locked from his side easily.  

She felt the contents of her stomach rise. 

She was going to throw up - though perhaps it would provide a good enough distraction for her to leave. 

However, despite the endless ideas rolling inside her head, the only sign of anxiety that was clearly displayed were the heavy and choppy rises of her chest - a path his eyes wandered down from her completely washed out complexion. 

Felicity shut her eyes close and swallowed hard when she felt Mr. Harris' fingers graze upon her nipple and remaining there as he explored the slight curve of her budding breasts.

"I knew they would look so pretty in this dress." He whispered into her ear, the wet of his exhale making her whole body tremble as it uselessly tried to squirm away. 

Maybe it was the little red light on the small camera in the corner of the dashboard that her eyes have just spotted, or the fact that her vision was blackening from the lack of oxygen.  Whatever it was, the words had triggered a distressed whimper out of Felicity - which was quickly followed by a series of uneven gasps. 

Mr. Harris pulled back at the change and was met with tears gathering around Felicity's big doe eyes, daring to spill like sheets at anytime. 

And for the first time, Felicity saw her teacher's face shift into something she'd never seen from him before - anger. 

The fear returned harder for her than the loneliness this time, clearing her mind. 

"Why are you being like this, Felicity?" He growled in accusation, the hand that was once gripping her trembling chin now slammed itself onto the console between them. "You're acting like a fucking child.  You said you liked me didn't you?"

"I did - I do, but..." Felicity stammered softly between sniffles. 

"Well this is what people do when they like each other." Mr. Harris cut in sharply, before grabbing one of her breasts and pinched roughly. 

The sudden pain made the small blonde jump in her seat and unlocked the passenger door, sprinting out of the car so fast until she was on the other side of the front door. 

Felicity slid down against it until she landed limply on the floor, only breathing out when she heard the engine start back up and the distant sound of his car driving away. 

In exchange, it was immediately replaced by the exceptionally loud moans of Donna in the master bedroom a few feet away. 

As soon as she closed the door to her room, Felicity could no longer contain her sobs as she quickly fell into a curled up lump on the floor.  Her trembling hands had done their best to cover her mouth as she managed to half crawl and half claw herself away into the closet, hoping the extra layer will help drown out the sounds from both ways. 

The ragged inhales of air left her choking as her body fought with her mind on what was real, while Felicity's first instinct was to pull down the dress that had begun to feel like a straightjacket.

After having hurled it towards the darkest corner of the closet, Felicity's body gave into the ground as she forced herself to cough until she could feel blotches of blood coming up - in exchange, she'd gulped down as much air as she could.

Her night eventually ended with her little arms wrapped around her naked body as she jerkingly rocked herself to unconsciousness, buried between two thin piles of clothing. 

The trust of a child was a fragile thing. 

 

 

_You've got a warm heart,_

_You've got a beautiful brain._

_But it's disintegrating, from all the medicine._

_From all the medicine, from all the medicine._

_Medicine._

 

 

She felt shorter than she did than in the last three weeks.

The school hallway felt like a walk of shame the following Monday, as Felicity felt every eye - imaginary or not - on her as she slipped past the hushed chatter and wary looks until her lowered head bumped into someone. 

Ms. Meredith Larson, the guidance counsellor was stood in front of her when the blonde slowly looked up to meet her gaze.  She was one of the staff members who had supported the recommendation that Felicity would accelerate in her courses.  And before the blonde could say anything, she was pushed into her office. 

There was a neutral expression on Ms. Larson's face when she told Felicity that she would be transferring back to the seventh grade English class as of today. 

Her whole body tensed at the words, her mind quickly spinning with not the fear of discovery - but the conclusions they've seemed to have already drawn from it.

But out of the sake of ruling out the only possibility, she still asked. 

"But I'm doing well in this class," Felicity reasoned, tension and perhaps desperation laced within her tone. "You can ask -"

"Actually, it was based on Mr. Harris' recommendation that you return to the seventh grade curriculum - at least for English. For now."

"But I've aced every single quiz, test, and assignment. I don't understand..."  Felicity began to shake her head, despite already knowing what had happened. 

"Felicity, you were only placed in this class temporarily to see you'd be a good fit. Not just academically, but socially as well.  While your grades are fine, clearly Mr. Harris believes that you require more... _maturing_.  Do you understand?"

There was meaning behind her question, a subtle enough dig at her that she was sure her own self esteem couldn't have made up.  

Ms. Larson _knew_.

 

...

 

It wasn't hard to put the pieces together when Felicity spotted Ms. Larson walked hand in hand with Mr. Harris to the same Cruze he'd drove her out of the city in parked at the reserved lot. Even now around the school yard there was still ongoing chatter about her.

Some shared similar expressions as Ms. Larson, giving her looks people would give a fatherless girl with an extreme need for attention and favours.

But not a victim. 

"That's the girl that tried to seduce Mr. Harris." Felicity heard behind the corner of the building.  She ripped her eyes away from the couple who were already inside the car, and found a nearby bench to sit down and finish her homework. 

"Her? She looks twelve -" Another girl spoke in a loud whisper, as Felicity picked up the only pencil that wasn't given to her by Mr. Harris and began to write. 

"I heard from Maddie that she somehow moved up a grade to Mr. Harris' english class only a month ago." The first girl replied in the same volume, disapproval lacing her tone in the next sentence. "Who do you think she screwed to make _that_ happen?"

"Man I don't know if that's more pathetic or embarrassing." A young male voice arose.  How many people were in on this?  "He's old enough to be her dad!"

Felicity heard a sharp cut laugh. "Home wreckers gotta start from somewhere - I wonder if Mr. Harris did, you know... let her suck him off or something.  I mean, you should've seen the way he used to look at her in class."

The pressure of her pencil pressing into the workbook gradually shook until the final snap of the lead broke.  Felicity closed the book with resignation and packed up her things into her old beaten up backpack. 

The dress, the stationary, the books, the book bag - everything, she had impulsively taken to Goodwill last weekend. It'd laid across her bedroom tainted, looking like stolen goods.  Like _she_ was the thief who had betrayed someone who'd put their complete and utter trust in her. 

She zipped closed the sweater until it'd covered the entirety of her neck.  More and more her body felt like a crime unprosecuted, covered with handprints that she'd never asked for - but done by a man her young heart couldn't place any blame on. 

Still, her feelings of betrayal was drowned out by her own guilt of not being able to do anything about it . And the lingering feeling of disappointing Mr. Harris somehow loomed over her heavier than anything else. 

She knew her place, and in this life - her truth alone could not afford her an opportunity to be heard. 

"That's the look of pity, Eli.  No way would someone as sane as him let some white trash ruin his career - _and_ his engagement."

"I can't believe she got Ms. Larson for a while too, they all vouched for her course acceleration." The voice of the first girl returned. "She mind as well do herself a favour and drop out now, those poles aren't going to learn themselves."

The group bursted into hushed laughter.  "At least God's fair, she already knows what she's good for."

 

...

 

Felicity left that school on a Monday and never returned. 

She'd also saved enough money from flyer delivery to get more headshots for her modelling profile the same Friday.

Donna happily took the morning off from her day drinking and mani-pedis to drive the blonde to get her new pictures taken.  In good time, she'd also figured out a new way to limit Donna's alcohol intake, which was to take as much gulps as she could whenever her mother opened a new bottle.  

It kept Donna sober enough when she was around - which was a lot more now as she'd stopped going to school - and it'd numbed herself enough to keep from combusting randomly into shreds of repressed memories. 

On their way out of the neighbourhood however - they'd drove past the goddamn building, where a flash of a too familiar white Cruz immediately made her throat seize up and drew shivers out of her pallor skin.  The nameless grave she dug for herself would be like clockwork memory from then on, every time they drove down Malcom avenue. 

A hollow ache circled in the pit of her stomach. 

Perhaps that was what happened to people when they've been beaten inside, enough so that there was no anger at those who've done the beating, just shame in being the one beaten in the first place. 

Turning away from the window, Felicity shut her eyes and pushed the dark sunglasses that sat on the top of her head down. 

Donna seemed to have taken note of her cues - a rarity for her - and turned her head to partly exhale the smoke while her lips still gripped onto the cigarette.  The older woman silently tilted her head to offer Felicity the stick, to which she readily accepted and finished slowly. 

"You okay?" Donna asked, keeping her eyes on the side of her daughter's profile for the moment.

Felicity simply let the smoke build up inside her lungs before slowly blowing them out, eyes numbly watching before giving a slight shrug. 

"Well alright then," her mother's eyes turned back onto the road ahead. "It's like I always say - mind over matter.  If you don't think you're hurt, then you aren't." 

 

(End of Flashback)

* * *

A shag pile rug, headphones, notebook, and a sleeping Lennox. That was likely the rest of Felicity's afternoon. 

Ray had been in contact with her since yesterday morning, wanting to confirm with her personally about the times and details of their meetings this month instead of with each other's assistants.  He had always been known to be very personable and dedicated to his projects - hence the critical acclaim his films and shorts have received. 

He'd stopped working completely the year his fiancee passed, putting many of his projects on a permanent hiatus - only to return the next year with an award winning original screenplay which he'd also directed.  

Like many others in the industry, she'd admired his creative itch and tenacity.  But Felicity also saw the reasons in each of his films, how everything was constructed to fit in synchrony.  And now she was in charge of creating a part of that puzzle.

Ray had assured her not to worry, and had emailed her a playlist with the simple instruction to listen to the songs and jot down any thoughts she had before their next meeting.  

Having exchanged her fitted romper from the morning for thicker sweats,  Felicity joined a half asleep Lennox on the living room rug and pressed the play button on her laptop. 

A younger version of her voice began to accompany the simply chord progression, and immediately her eyes went back to her laptop where the song titles were displayed.

He _did_ listen to her.

He wasn't lying.   

She didn't end up skipping the track, there was a reason Ray had put this song - _her_ song in here.

The young voice playing into her ears sounded so different as to how she was now.  Felicity's voice was much lower now - the years of smoke had caught up to her vocal chords and in place was a certain rasp to her words that people had mistaken to be either soulful or overtly sexual.

But gone was the emotion behind her melancholy.

The blonde had grown out of sounding like she was always on the verge of having a meltdown. 

It sounded silly, but Felicity could no longer recognize the voice in this song as her's anymore.  And after a brief moment, she picked up her pen and jotted something down before clicking next.

 

...

 

He was leaned against the pillar to the living room entrance, arms folded across his chest as his eyes watched the uneven rises of her chest out of synchrony with the greyhound's laid beside her on the carpet. 

Her bun was disheveling from the restless tussles as pieces of honey slowly fell out until it'd looked like a thousand sun beams.  The rest of her small body was coiled tight, flinching from an invisible enemy that was causing the agony displayed on her frail and worn out face.

She was suffocating underneath her own skin.

Soon enough, Felicity woke up in a cold sweat, pulling out the single earphone still latched into her ear as she span her head around looking lost and unsure - stopping herself when her hand went to hold her temple.  

She gave herself a minute to set her breathing back to normal before trying three times to pick herself up.

He counted.

But her back would seize up whenever she'd tried to lift further than her head, and she would land back onto the rug in pain again. 

Oliver wondered if every morning was like this for her. 

In pain, alone.

Felicity squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath before swinging her arms around onto the armrest of the couch beside her.  With each pull, she slowly lifted herself into a sitting position despite the trembling in her arms.  The action had left the blonde completely out of breath as she dropped her head against the arm of the sofa panting. 

Reaching back to open the front door, Oliver closed it once more a little firmer so the sound would travel to the living room.

Oliver had a feeling that her wake up routine wasn't something meant for him to see.

Wanting to giver her a little time to adjust, he took his time before walking inside.  

"Oliver?" He heard Felicity call out timidly.  The uncertainty in her voice however nearly breaks him and made his steps double in time to reach her. 

She was standing with her laptop in hand when he entered the living room, a rush of desperation on her face as she ran towards him.  The picture of her hair in tangled webs and her skeleton swamped in sweats that should be fitting somehow made her so childlike, that the three words which came out of her lips felt as though someone had punch all the air out of him - enough to take a step back. 

"Where were you?"

Her big blue eyes glaring disarmingly up at him for an answer as she clutched her laptop to her chest.  Oliver just stared back, his mouth opening a few times only to come up empty.

It was like she was waking up a second time, as Oliver watched the haze behind her eyes clear up until she was really seeing him.  And soon enough, the little girl was replaced by the woman he'd slowly come to know as she began to reel herself back - head lowered as she mumbled out apologies.  

"... Sorry I, I don't know what came over... I'm sorry." 

His heart seemed to start back up at that, unable to control his own feet as they'd tried to close in on their distance - only for her head to be tipped back against the wall, stretching her tenuous body until her sharp hips and thighs were pushed out onto display.

And when Oliver took note of how sudden her back tensed, he quickly stepped back without a word.  It took Felicity a while to settle into her own skin before slowly lifting her gaze to meet his, leaving only the shadow of anguish behind. 

Her eyes were making a hundred apologies a minute as his hands came up to cover her shoulders just barely - and held her eyes with his until the look in hers softly turned into something less astray and more despondent. 

"I'm sorry I left without saying something. That won't happen again." He promised gruffly, firming his grip on her shoulders as his eyes penetrated her's - as if waiting for her to accept his assurance. 

Felicity's eyes were still locked onto his as she faintly nodded, seemingly still in the midst of trying to find herself.  But slowly and surely, Oliver felt her shoulders and the rest of body slacken before he removed his hands.

"Would you forgive me if I told you I was planning a surprise?" His voice remaining just as low as before, an eyebrow arched in an attempt to lighten the mood.  And to his credit, Felicity's eyes gradually lit up at that.

Still weary, Felicity waited for him to go on but Oliver only reached to brush away the piece of curl stuck on her forehead from the sweat before patting on the sofa seat.

"You know how you've been talking to me about taking that GED test?"

She followed his action and joined him on the couch section, tucking her doll legs underneath before turning to look up at him. 

"Well I put in some calls, and there's a testing centre nearby that can accommodate a private room for you to do all four subjects in one sitting."

Oliver watched as Felicity took in the words he'd just said, and he could almost see the all the little wheels turning inside her extraordinary head. 

"You... You mean like now?" 

Her eyes widened behind missing frames.  There was also a slow simmer of excitement that Oliver could detect intertwined with her slight uneasiness. 

"It doesn't have to be," Oliver had tried to ease her. "We can reschedule for another day -"

"Do - do _you_ think I can do this, now?" Felicity cut in with a timid voice, meeting his gaze intently as if looking for approval. 

It took him a full minute to climb out of the eyes he'd quickly fallen into, before shifting himself so his body was facing her's.  

Wiping any other emotions aside from seriousness, Oliver answered her steadily.   
  
"What do you think."

  

 

_You could still be,_

_what you want to be._

_What you said you were,_

_when you met me._

 

 

"Congratulations graduate." Oliver smiled, pushing himself off the adjacent wall as the door to the testing room opened after six hours and released an incognito and rumpled Felicity. 

Her once tight ponytail had mostly fallen out from pulling again, and the sides of her hands were generously stained from hours of markers and lead.  But beneath the pink baseball cap, Oliver could see the ends of the small smile adorned on her face.  It was different from the rest.

It'd almost looked as though she was... proud.  

Felicity walked up to him however, still as nervous as she'd left him - evident from the torture her bottom lip had endured.  And so Oliver had decidedly stayed quiet while the blonde paced a little on the spot just a foot before him.   
  
Having her this close and without her meeting his gaze,  his six feet self was treated to a view of only the top of her head. 

"I have to wait 24 hours before I get the results back.  And I haven't written short answers since - well I can't even remember and I've never been that interested in social sciences -  I mean I knew that was going to be its own test subject but do you think I should've scheduled that section until a later date?  If I don't score above 100 -"

"Felicity Smoak," Oliver cut off her ramble abruptly, causing her head to finally snap up and immediately lock onto his gaze. "You're _going_ to graduate high school tomorrow." 

* * *

 

(Flashback, O, 18)

 

He found her at the refreshment bar, downing what was most likely not her first drink of the evening.

The stilettos and formal attire seemed to have added not only years but apathy into her eyes, that even the bartender could buy into.

"Thea," He sighed from behind as he reached to where she had been sitting. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

The brunette turned her head around before giving him a look. 

"Well congratulations to you," she sang back sardonically - waving to the bartender for a refill. 

Maybe it was the long day, or the long week... maybe it was the entire fucking year but his patience had ran thin - and he was _tired_. 

And so Oliver didn't afford himself to think twice before grabbing onto one of the brunette's wrists and without a word - began to drag her out of the venue. 

As expected, Thea pulled violently against his hold as soon as they got out into the opening, and glared up at him intensely. 

"What the _fuck_ was that?" She spat out fiercely, every word aimed to kill. "Who do you think you are to manhandle me like that?"

Oliver ignored her words and held up a index finger. 

"I have one rule to funerals, Thea.  Just one." He nearly growled. "Don't crash _other_ people's funerals."

Thea rolled her dilated eyes at that. "It was just the reception." 

"It was the - I swear to God Thea Queen,"  his straight face became lost to view as more fire fuelled his anger. "We have a reception too, and I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't run off in the middle of it."

"You call _that_ pathetic room a reception?  There's no one there to mourn _her_.  At least this one had booze, and you know - actual living people -"

"THEA." His bellow echoed within the hallways and made itself known to the vast space of nothing.  But it was still not enough to deter the thirteen year old, who just folded her arms and glared away from him. 

"There you guys are," a voice of relief briefly interrupted the tension balancing between the two siblings.

Thea huffed before stepping away from her brother and walked decisively towards the owner of that voice.  

"Can we go now, Sam?"

The redhead smiled gently at her before reaching for the girl's hand.  "Why don't you wait with Raisa, she's by the foyer.  Ollie and I will join you in a little bit."

Waiting until Thea was out of sight, Samantha sighed heavily and turned to the brooding suit leaned against the wall. 

"She needs time, you both do." She said as she slowly reached to cover his shoulder with her hand, in an attempt to turn him towards her. 

"I don't... I don't even know her." Oliver confessed lowly, remaining still. "I never had the chance to.  And now, I'm supposed to act I had this whole time."

"You're not alone in this Ollie," Samantha insisted softly. "Raisa loves Thea more than anything in the world - the woman has been with her since day one."

Sliding her hand down, she reached for Oliver's and held his beneath her own.  "And you have me."  The gleam from the diamonds around her ring finger visible to them both.

It meant different things to them, but Oliver hadn't allowed himself to realize that until now. When he'd just been briefly blinded by it.

Shaking his head, "I'd never wanted to drag you into this," he told her instead - his voice still hoarse from the yelling.  

" _I_ chose this, Ollie." 

"I know, and -"

"And isn’t that the whole point of marriage,"  She tightened the hold of their hands in emphasis.  "to get through the hard times because we are together, not in spite of it?”

Samantha was standing beside him, looking up almost pleading while Oliver continued to stare blankly at the wall in front of them. 

"We got through your parents' trial, and Moira - I mean you proposed to me during it all.  Nothing's changed, Ollie."

_We got here because of my parent's trial._

He snapped his head towards her right then, incredulousness circling the young blue of his eyes as he dropped her hand. " _Everything's_ changed, Sam.  Thea's in ten different kinds of pain right now, the lawyers are calling non stop about things I've never cared to understand and my mother - my mother just hung herself!"

The hallway seemed to have shaken from the breaking of his voice, as Samantha kept her gaze up at him with the same amount of empathy in her expression as before.

She may have only been a year older, but it was obvious in times like this as to who could keep their calm and act in a way that wasn't always completely self destructive.  Despite it all, the woman was not blind to who she'd agreed to marry, and the kind of unworldly perspective that came along with his now former familial privileges.  

"I'm sorry," Oliver grumbled. "I didn't mean to yell.  I - I just can't do this right now, Sam."

"Do what?"  The redhead was still trying to get him to turn around to face her. The realization hit her then. 

Oliver turned his head around hesitantly and met her gaze, only for a moment before he shifted them away when he saw the look of betrayal slowly wash over her face. 

"I have to go, be with Thea."  He said instead, closing his eyes momentarily when he heard a soft sniffle from her. 

Even without the use of his peripheral vision, he could see the redhead nod faintly before looking up - blinking away the disappointment from her eyes. 

 

...

 

"Where's Sam?" Thea looked up when she'd noticed the empty passenger seat after Oliver had turned on the ignition and began to reverse the car from the parking spot. 

"Go to sleep, Thea." He uttered grimly.

After dropping off Raisa to her sister's house, they headed up towards the mountain cabin.  Oliver didn't know how long they would be able to keep it, along with the manor. 

How was he - someone who had barely got by living in boarding school dorms - suppose to take care of another human being?

He'd never been employed, but he was almost positive a minimum wage wouldn't support her private school tuition.  But how good of a job could a high school education get him?

Everything was up in the air, and he was... simply suffocating. 

Oliver looked into the rearview mirror to see his sister completely knocked out in the back seat.

With her heels tossed away and her eyes closed, the brunette seemed to have reverted back into herself.  Albeit, it was a self Oliver could admit to not knowing very well.  But her young life was now in his hands - her entire future rested upon his barely grown eighteen year old head. 

There was no time to process, stress, let alone break down as Thea couldn't afford a big brother like that.

As long as _he_ grieved, no one else would get to. 

The air became clearer when they exited the edge of the city, and the heat of the Tennessee sun found every surface inside the car as a building of an army recruitment office appeared ahead. 

The sign seemed to have pushed aside every single blinding sunbeam, that Oliver could see it clearly still despite the squinting he had to do without his sunglasses. 

Something jumped inside him at the word recruitment, and held his eyes captive like a soldier. 

It was no Green Light but it did its job - as Oliver turned in and pulled over in front of the building, his gaze still locked onto the bolded words like itself was an escape route.

And perhaps it was. 

 

(End of Flashback)

* * *

   

_"So what, we're just casually going out with the bodyguard now?"_

"He's accompanying me to the observatory centre."

On their drive back to The House, Oliver had asked what she wanted as a graduation present, to which she'd rolled her eyes before reminding him again of the fact that she hadn't gotten her test results back yet.

To which of course he smoothly ignored and proceeded to list off a bunch of possible options on the top of his head. 

It wasn't that Felicity didn't have things that she'd wanted.  It was just that, well, those things were often less tangible and more impossible than she'd like.  

But there was the Griffith observatory centre.  A place she'd dreamed about going as a kid back in Vegas, but now that she'd been around LA for the past 4 years  - a lot of things had been put in the back burner. 

Lists, places, people... dreams. 

_ "Is that what the kids are calling it these days?" _

"He's... he's a good man." Felicity sighed, shimmying herself out of another dress before trying on another.  She didn't own a lot of her own clothes, and it wasn't only tonight that this fact had begun to hit her - but it was tonight that she had finally begun to care. 

In fact, she'd begun to care about a lot more recently. 

 _ "That's really rich coming from you, Lissy.  I have to say though, you're not the most reliable when it comes to 'good'... and 'men' - are you?  And don't tell me you're not just waiting for _ ___the other shoe to drop."__ _

Oliver had never been to the observatory either, and he beamed with victory when he'd finally got it out of her.  It'd looked good on him, smiling. 

The admission was free and the parking was about 4 bucks an hour, which Oliver didn't know about until he googled for the directions just minutes ago. 

He then asked again to make sure this was the place that she'd wanted to go. 

_"I'm not going to be the cheap gifter, Felicity."_

"I'm - I'm doing things differently this time around." She muttered underneath her breath like a mantra, while hanging back the two dress options onto the portable rack in the office. "I'm clean and I've been staying clean. I'm doing work my way and I'm - I'm going to live.  And it's working."

Felicity could hear the sneer and eye roll inside her head as soon as she'd finished. 

"I'm past this," The blonde had felt the need to continue defensively.  Her voice escalating as she'd tried to convince - well. "I'm clean I'm - I'm better now... I don't _need_ this anymore." 

_ "Is that why you're still talking to me?" _

Felicity froze in front of the standing mirror, the right strap of her pristine blue marbled dress left hanging off her doll-like arm. 

_ "All this vain pride,  nothing's working, Lissy. I  _know that poker face way too well._  And it's not the drugs or the booze."_

The blonde stood deathly still and defenceless, caught in the web of her own thoughts - as her body was unable to move away from the mirror that seemed to make  _her_  voice amplify. 

_"You know deep down why you still have my thoughts." _

 

_..._

 

Oliver headed over to the Observatory first to talk with the security there, while Felicity waited back at The House with Mr. Diggle for his call.

"I've heard that congratulations are an order, Ms. Smoak."  The big man said as he opened the back seat door for her.  And warmth washed over her at the words as she ducked her head inside the car.  Patting the hem of her outfit to prevent it from wrinkling against the seat, Felicity had thought that her marbled dress was appropriate to theme.  Without her glasses, the pattern had almost looked like a galaxy. 

"Mr. Queen has quite a big mouth." 

Mr. Diggle let out a short chuckle at that, before buckling himself in and drove them swiftly away from the suburbs of Los Angeles. 

 

...

 

There she sat, in the back of a Mercedes Pullman that started at half a million - wondering if she'd overdressed for an evening at a science centre - when her eyes naturally fell onto a woman and child rooting through a trash bag at the intersection of Los Feliz and Vermont. 

And all of the sudden, the brick of shame swung heavily from the side of the car into her chest once more.

It was too easy really.  To knock her. 

There was no reason for her to hide, the family and her didn't know each other.  

They were strangers.

But the urge to disappear arose anyway as Felicity snapped her head away from the tinted window and slid down her leather seat, clutching the fabric of her dress until her pink knuckles turned white.

The wrinkles left from her grip were left unbothered afterwards, as if they were inevitable. 

 

 

_You could still be, what you want to._

_What you said you were when I met you._

_When you met me, when I met you._

 

 

They were sat in the back corner of the 290 seat Samuel Oschin Planetarium, half way through the live presentation of the planet's cosmic origins.

The vast and dark space eased her into her theatre seating as Felicity tried to take it all in.  Everything from the star projector, the state-of-the-art aluminum dome, and the fact that she was in a public outing without falling into an immediate panic attack from the gazes of camera lenses and eyes. 

Her gaze inescapably landed onto the seat beside her's, where Oliver was doing his own kind of scrutinizing - towards the exits and the people seated around them.  Keeping his guard on, Oliver turned to face her when he felt her eyes settle on him. 

"Thank you for coming with me," she leaned in towards the armrest between them in a whisper - mindful of the presentation below them. 

His stance seemed to lax a bit at her words. "You got the tougher job for having to explain whatever that guy has been saying." Tilting his head towards the animated speaker.  

Felicity perked up at that.  "Lucky me, I've always wanted to do that. Teach, I mean." 

"Yeah?" 

Felicity nodded softly, turning back towards the projector. “When I was a kid, I’ve always wanted to go to space camp – I couldn’t of course, so I’d spend the little free time I had going down each aisle of the town library, just… drinking in every topic in astrophysics.  My favourite though was always the theory of the black hole.”

“… Taking that I barely passed any of my high school courses, I’d have to ask why.”  Oliver's eyes circled with amusement, his head still slightly turned towards her's as if they were in the midst of sharing a secret.

Felicity's however, were enticed by the artificial stars above.  “There’s this… event horizon like uh… a point of no return - where nothing beyond it can escape… not even light. And because there’s no light escaping, no one can actually see it." She uttered, her eyes still staring up in wonderment.  "In fact, time warps imperceptibly inside a black hole - to the point where it stops altogether.  No past, no present, no future.  Nothing. Time... would not exist there."

Her whisper settled into his thoughts slowly, leaving him in a sort of awe. 

“I think it it’d be the perfect place to love someone.” She surmised softly, before gradually reverting back into her more... reticent state.  He watched as her mouth opened up to silence several times before a hesitant whisper came out. “Have you...?” 

"Have I..."  Oliver's dazed gaze dipped down towards her lower lip, it was painted a muted pink this evening.   

"Been in love." She finished quietly. 

“I... I don't know." He said unsurely - honestly. Before returning his gaze up to see the brows above her eyes furrow, as if wanting to understand something she couldn't.  There was a subtle dim to the stars in her eyes that perhaps not even Felicity had realized but Oliver still felt responsible for, and so he stumbled a few before quickly adding. "... Maybe. Probably.”

“What was it like?” Felicity wondered, a childlike glimmer in her tone. 

_Was that even a question he should be answering?_

“I'm - I'm not sure. Complicated, to put simply."  He eventually settled, shifting himself in the seat.  

Felicity had seemed to be fulfilled by the answer for the moment.  However, the night of galactic phenomenons must have fuelled her inquiring mind more than usual - because the blonde had looked back up at him after a few minutes with the same amount of interest in her bright blue eyes.

"How many times?”

“What?”

“How many times have you been in love?”

Oliver's hand went to scratch the back of his head sheepishly, this was a whole new different kind of anxiety.  One he'd never experienced before.

On the other hand, he'd never seen her eyes shine for this long before either.  

“I - I’m not really the greatest example." He'd managed to mumble out. "I mean, my... my ex-fiancée is uh… still technically my fiancée.”

The last part was a surprise to them both.  His own head shook when he'd realized what he said.  

With the exceptions of a few childhood anecdotes, their past conversations have never touched on his life before the army.   It was either all recent or irrelevant to it.

He had never thought about why he'd kept it like that. 

Still, there was nothing new in Felicity's expression, only the patience for him to continue. If he'd wanted to. 

“Neither of us called it, not really. And then I ran, right into the army.”

“And when you came back?”

“It was for Thea’s funeral.”  He said solemnly. 

It was Felicity's turn as she slowly took in the new information, her next whisper barely audible. 

“... May I ask what'd happened?”

“What happens to everything I guess," he shrugged faintly. "Time."

"Do you think maybe one day you could..." Her teeth returning to grind onto the tortured skin of her bottom lip. 

"I could what?" He prompted softly. 

Felicity looked away, settling her gaze somewhere next to him. "I don't know, go back to it." A timid shrug followed. "Back to her?"

Oliver turned back and kept his eyes ahead before answering the blonde. 

"You know most of the times, I can't even remember what it was like - before I enlisted."

It was the most honest thing he'd ever said.  And the most deceptive one at that.  To himself that was. 

"It's like you've lived two lives." She pondered quietly, the rest of her body still attentive to the speaker who was concluding the presentation. "The one before, and the one after the war."

Oliver looked to her for a moment then, "It's better like that."  He said decisively before turning his attention back to the speaker. "I don't think of it much anymore."  

 

...

 

_"I wish I could forget like you."_

There was regret in her system when she looked back and saw something shift inside his eyes, like she'd brought back something that was supposed to be left behind for another life. 

Perhaps for him, it was.

Gingerly, her hand slowly untangled from her own at the thought, and went to reach for his resting on top of his knee.   

_"Really, Lissy?  Still gonna play that second hand dumpster? Stop searching for things that do not belong to you."_

She thwarted her action suddenly and pulled her hand back, opting to lay it on top of the armrest before he could notice.   
  
_"What he means is that this life is temporary for him. **You** are temporary.  Why can't you get that into your fucking head?" _  
  
"I've never been on a date before."  She blurted out softly, wanting to shift away from the tightrope she'd just built for herself.

Oliver turned his head, an eyebrow slightly raised - he was not expecting that to come out of her mouth next. 

"You look surprised." 

Oliver stammered before coughing once to clear his throat. "Well you're... you're a nice girl."

" _This_ is nice," she gestured sweetly around before hey eyes widened almost comically from her own words. "...Not that we're on a date because we've established that already just that it's nice to finally come here after all these years you know -"

"Felicity."  Oliver cut in gently. 

"Right."

"May I ask why?" 

She shrugged, deciding for an omission of having to admit to understanding herself. “I felt best when I was on the move, going somewhere rather than being there.”  

The man beside her however, was not a stranger to her evasiveness - having buried secrets of his own.  But while his had been forgotten, Felicity was living in them.

Still, he was a man who knew the worst of the sins she'd committed, and still took her out to see the stars.  So she wasn't taken aback when he looked at her knowingly, but just as well as not expecting her to really answer if she wasn't ready to do so. 

"I don't know - it's like when you don't know someone, they can be... anybody that you want them to be.  But when you know them, there're suddenly limits." 

Looking down, Felicity had brought her hands together in between the space of her thighs.  

"... People like to see their own lewd thoughts come alive."  She stared blankly at the contrast of her electric blue nails against the gentle porcelain of her skin. "But eventually, once they knew something about me - when they begin to _really see me,_ I'm called the lewd one. They start to notice the bruise or a misplaced freckle or an extra line underneath the eyes - and suddenly I look... _so human,_ that the magic is gone." 

The audience began to clap at the final display of the presentation, the dome projecting the Milky Way at last.  

The water that rimmed her haunted eyes was soon completely and utterly enchanted by the bands of mystifying red, black, and purple spirals and the 200 billion stars existing within it. 

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"  She remarked delicately, her eyes following its very movement around the planetarium. 

With the projector lights surrounding the dark theatre, Oliver could see the faint discolouration on the right side of her neck.  It was small, flat - most likely a beauty mark that was normally covered by makeup. 

"Yeah," he whispered - his gaze unmoved from the side of his blonde client. "It is."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. In the flashback, F was referred to as Ms. Darling - one of the last names her and Donna used throughout her childhood.
> 
> 2\. I'm using Jessica De Gouw's image to play the story's Samantha, not to be confused w/ Samantha from the show.
> 
> 3\. Next on Body Check: Oliver plans a party and meets with someone at a pub, and a certain six months flash forward from ch10 is up. 
> 
> I'd love to know your thoughts in the comments below or at maverickyoung.tumblr.com x


	16. Tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tomorrow - Daughter - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vM1xYO1NlrA

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taking place a day after last chapter, feel free to reread before this one.

 

The top of his night table hummed in vibration as Oliver pulled his head through the hole of his henley.

After sending a quick text to Sara, he quietly made his way out to the backyard and unlocked the side door before heading towards the shed. 

The patio tables came in last night when they were out at the observatory centre, and just like he'd asked - Diggle had set them up before leaving.  

Oliver had begun to busy himself around The House as swiftly as he could, thankful for how heavy of a sleeper Felicity had always been, so he wasn't too weary about making sounds in the kitchen.  It was all that he'd left to do since having given the decorative reigns over to his client's assistant, trusting that she'd know more about backyard decor than he did.

All he'd insisted on were colours - and a lot of them.  It just... it'd seemed like something she would enjoy, he'd thought. 

By the time he'd returned to the yard, Sara had already let herself in and was finishing touches for the balloon bouquets.  His eyes naturally surveyed the result of their work, trying to remember if he'd missed anything. 

A small platform at the centre hung a simple gold congratulations banner that glimmered under the rare sunny morning, while patterns of bold oranges, yellows, and blues surrounded the newly assembled picnic clothed tables. 

"Caitlin said she's stuck in traffic, but John's on his way to pick up Waller." Sara's voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

Oliver nodded, pulling up the cover from what looked like a never before used outdoor grill. 

"So, how is she?" 

He looked up to the blonde picking up empty boxes off the grass. 

"I'd tried going through her contacts you know - for anyone who I might have missed inviting." She said, still focusing on her task in hand. "But... well you'd know by now.  She doesn't keep around too many people."

 

...

 

The heat from the morning sun peeked through the blinds she'd forgotten to close from the night before, and the warmth of it all woke her slowly from a dreamless slumber - a first in a long while. 

Giving her room a brief glance, she found her marbled dress tossed hastily on the office chair, and her Mary Janes separated from across the room.  

Buried underneath a mountain of duvets that covered up to her mouth, Felicity had begun to push away the ten different pillows on top. It was perhaps the single luxury of this life she'd freely indulged in, but it'd also meant that she literally had to dig herself out of bed to find herself bare of clothing. 

The new pills Caitlin had gotten her on seemed to have tamed her morning stiffness, or maybe it was the full night's rest - void of nightmares and faces of those she could face no more.

Whatever it was, she only had to push up twice before successfully sitting up in her bed. 

Immediately her skin crawled with goosebumps as the layers of blankets fell onto her lap.  Felicity eyed around the room for the nearest robe to grab, but found a garment bag instead laid out on her office desk.  It wasn't there last night when she'd left, though she had very faint memories of it when she came back into her room hours later in the night.  

Letting curiosity get the best of her, the blonde shimmied the lower half of her body out the covers and wrapped one of the thinner sheets around herself before going to unzip the black bag. 

The first thing her half lidded eyes caught was the gold band that wrapped around a slim tassel.

Rubbing the slight crusting from the inner corners of her eyes, she grabbed her glasses by the desk.  Now, the tassel was clearly hung off a bright red cap, before a long fabric of the same ruby shade. Gently, she unveiled the fabric from the garment bag and quickly figured out the rest. 

What was a cap and gown doing in her room?

The blonde blinked slowly before throwing on her night slip.  Having picked up the bag, she left for the kitchen.

 

...

 

Her head threw back _hard_  as she collided right into a plane of solid chest, but Felicity thought she'd played it down well enough when she kept her face from cringing in pain. 

"Felicity?"

She looked up at the call of her name, sheepishness donned in her expression.

"I was just going to see if you were awake."  

She stared up at him as he swiftly ignored the embarrassment she'd just caused herself.  Sighing, he must be used to it by now.  Snapping out of her own inner thoughts, Felicity promptly remembered the reason for leaving her room so abruptly in the first place.  

"Did uh, did Sara send over dry cleaning? I think there was a switch up..."

The end tail of Oliver's mouth ticked up slightly before he gently gestured for her to follow him.  And before Felicity could say anything else, she was standing bare feet on the freshly mowed grass with everyone she knew staring back at her.

Right in the centre of her view hung a graduation themed banner and slowly, everything clicked into place. 

Sara jumped up from her chair and skipped towards her with a familiar smirk, the kind that smelt like mischief even from miles away.

"Congratulations lil' graduate," She teased. "Who knew our very own Felicity was a high school drop out?  Literally, like there's nothing about it on Wikipedia." 

"It's not for certain yet, really.  I mean I still have to -"

"You _did_ pass, Felicity.  I checked your email first thing this morning."  Sara cut in quickly, rolling her eyes before reading off a printed letter she'd shoved into her hands. "Perfect score of two hundred.  College ready and eligible for math, science, english and social science credits."

_College ready._

_Maybe in some not so distant alternate universe, at 23, she could've been applying to graduate schools right now._

_Yet._

"Now will you put this on and walk up that silly platform Oliver had me pick up?"

 

...

 

"Oh my god."

Somehow this kind of attention was different than addressing a room of strange faces. 

After being ushered back into her room to change, Felicity was soon walking up the miniature stage at the centre of the backyard - donned in the smallest red cap and gown Sara could find in the adult section. 

Her eyes kept to Sara's encouraging expression until she saw her assistant nod towards Oliver, who then began to play Elgar's infamous march from the speakers. 

Felicity froze and immediately recognized the tune as everyone else began to shake their heads in mirth.  Sara - who had full responsibility in this matter - broke into the widest grin.  

"You need the whole experience, and that includes a corny entrance to pomp and circumstance, " she exclaimed whilst clapping along to the music.  The rest soon joined in cheering for the blonde to continue up the stage. 

 

...

 

She didn't do it much, but Oliver loved hearing her talk. 

Having given into Sara and Caitlin's protests, Felicity had reluctantly begun a thank you speech that quickly snowballed into a colourful ramble - the kind that made her cheeks blush pinker than the bouquet of peonies in her hands.

For the last six months, he'd been her sole companion and today was the first time that he had shared her like this with other people. 

And then he heard her _laughing_ , and Oliver had to draw himself out of his thoughts for a moment to make sure it really was her.  Felicity's face was still flushed, but her eyes were now crinkled into crescents and it brought him back to that night at the skating rink, the last and only time he'd heard that kind of sound come out of her.  

He could recall it too clearly, the whole evening really.  But specifically how incredibly addicting and guileless being around her was as he spun her across the rink.  There was freedom hidden within that melody much like there was now. 

It was a strange feeling that simmered beneath Oliver's stomach, that perhaps he'd gotten too used to the suburban bubble they've been hiding - dwelling in.  That he'd perhaps forgotten the reason they were living here in the first place.  And as he watched her take in the scene he'd built, and how her eyes never fell from the smiling gazes looking back at her - he couldn't help but wonder if she'd felt the same. 

Waller was sat in the middle of the centre table.  Her hands were kept to her lap while the rest of her colleagues cheered on - but wore an almost wistful smile throughout the private ceremony. And as if she'd been listening all along, her careful brown eyes shifted to his once, just as Felicity turned to step down from the stage.

Oliver had felt the heaviness in his peripheral as he was facing the blonde.  

It'd stayed like that, as if Waller was waiting for him to turn his head around.  And when he did - a slow nod of acknowledgement was sent his way from across the table before her eyes swiftly left his.

When Oliver found his client again, it was much later as she was stood in conversation with Sara and Caitlin nearby the food table. 

"... I never thought I'd be wearing this," he'd caught the blonde saying as he made his way towards the women.  Felicity was faced away from him in the casual circle they'd formed, but he knew she'd sensed his presence the moment she'd paused herself right in the middle of her sentence. 

"Well Mr. Extra Queen here, had  _insisted_ on it.  For formality or whatever." Sara smirked, her arms folded in her typical stance. 

"What's a graduation without a cap and gown? I'd kept all four of mine." Dr. Snow chimed in, before placing her hand on Sara's shoulder. "Bet you ten John hasn't figured out the grill yet." 

Oliver watched the two leave in debate before looking back to Felicity, who was slowly turning around to face him.  

The remnants of her joyfulness sat peacefully upon her face, not in a hurry to leave anytime soon.  The kind he couldn't help but reflect. 

 _Did he do this?_  

"I..." Felicity shook her head at the lost of words.  "How - how did... But you were with me the whole..."

There was now a slight crinkle formed in between her brows, and Oliver could almost see the wheels of curiosity threatening to jump out her head. 

"I finished planning everything before your test." He explained.

 _"Before?"_ Her head was tilted in confusion and it threw his smile even wider - to the point that he'd let out a low chuckle and a small head shake before bringing his eyes back to her's. 

"I told you there was not a doubt in mind, Felicity."

And he watched her expression slowly turn as serious as his - trying to take in each of his words, before a new - fonder expression took its place.  It grew softly, like watching the dying of a fire in reverse.

"Felicity, congratulations my dear." Waller's words flew in suddenly, knocking Oliver effectively out of his trance long enough for him to pull his gaze away and step back. 

The brunette proceeded to cut in front of him and wrapped her hands around both her shoulders.  "I'm as happy as I was surprised to hear that you were looking to get your G.E.D."

Oliver waited for his client, who'd quickly returned to her word babbles. 

"Yeah I uh, but that was before -" Scratching the back of her head, Felicity began to mumble out.  "You know, recently, I've been rethinking about some things - a lot of things.  And Oliver - I just, I just thought it was time."  Pressing her lips together, the blonde offered a quiet nod to herself and a small shrug for the brunette. 

"I see," Waller replied slowly - her reserved expression never falling as she switched onto lighter conversation whilst leading the blonde towards the picnic tables. 

 

 

_By tomorrow we'll be swimming with the fishes_

_Leave our troubles in the sand._

_And when the sun comes up,_

_We'll be nothing but dust,_

_Just the outlines of our hands._

 

 

"We should've gotten a pool. Like those inflatable ones at Walmart." 

The group was sat around the combined tables, the unusually warm weather having taken everyone by surprise.  Sara in particular had an affinity for staying cool and was starting to get agitated by the direct heat she was receiving from the backyard sun. 

"Who knew it was gonna be like this in the middle of February?" John pointed out, snatching another bottle of soda from the cooler and tossed it towards the blonde. 

"We should be taking this to the beach - it's like a hundred degrees out!" Sara suggested, rubbing the cold can against her forehead. "What do you say, Felicity?"

Oliver found his blonde client turn to look at him before anything else. 

"And before you ask because I know you will - we've all cleared our schedules for the morning. Well except for Waller, Mr. Diggle's driving her to a meeting soon." She added before noticing that Felicity was looking to her bodyguard to decide. 

"oh come on Oliver, she'll wear a hat and everything." Sara turned and pleaded almost mockingly. 

Oliver's gaze never strayed from his client when he replied.

"Whatever Felicity wants."

* * *

(Flashback, F, 16)

 

"Hi baby! Can she see me?" She waved at the laptop camera, the biggest smile Felicity had seen in her friend for weeks. 

It'd widened even more when the toddler in the screen recognized her and began to exclaim "momma" over and over again. 

"How's my favourite girl in the whole world? Momma misses you so much." 

"Are you coming to take her anytime soon?"  The older woman who'd been holding the toddler cut in. Her tired eyes spoke volumes. "You know it can't be like this any longer. I need an actual date Giovanna."

"I just wired everything I got," the blonde watched as the smile fell quickly from her friend's expression. "It's gotta be enough to cover her for the month."

"It's not just about that. I can't just be taking care of _your_ kid - I told you when you decided to have her - "

"I know..." The brunette had wiped her worn face with her hands, and sighed. "I just need..."

"You just need more time, I know.  You've been saying that.  Look, it's getting late.  I gotta get her to bed." 

"Wait I -" The video chat abruptly ended before the brunette could get another word out. 

"I didn't get to say goodnight." 

They sat together in silence, a bowl of cigarettes separating them on top of Gio's duvet that she'd dragged out onto the balcony.  Most of the girls had already called it in for the night and were passed out in their own beds inside.  It was a long day for Gio and her too, their mornings were spent bouncing between casting calls on empty stomachs before heading to 'work' at Rickie's club.

"You know sometimes I - sometimes I think she's right."  

Felicity turned to look at her friend. "About what?"

"That I should stop wasting time here, go back to Toronto.  Back to my baby."

"She's growing up fast," Felicity nodded towards the lock screen picture on the laptop. "What you gonna do if you go back?"

"Fuck if I know," the brunette pondered softly. "At least this pays, you know?"

"Yeah." 

It was two in the morning, and the day had begun to slowly catch up to Felicity as her eyelids begun to droop down. 

"Hey look," she'd felt a nudge and blinked up just in time to see the end of a shooting star. "You gon' make a wish?"

Felicity shrugged lightly, "got nothing to lose."

"What you wishing for?" Giovanna asked before adding. "Wait, don't tell me. It won't come true if you do right? I don't remember the rules."

They'd both laughed at that.

It was one of self deprecation, a kind that held no joy in its sound but nevertheless a laugh all the same. 

"That you won't be alone anymore." Felicity whispered after they'd both calmed down. 

"Huh," she heard as her friend opened a new pack of Camel. "Weird."

"Why?"

"That's what I wished for you too," Giovanna smiled sadly. "It's the worst thing in the world, isn't it Lis. To be left behind." 

 

(End of Flashback)

* * *

 

Sara ended up choosing the largest sunhat she could find in Felicity's closet.  Along with a pair of Ray-bans, the blonde was as beach incognito as she could be.

By mid afternoon, the blazing heat had drawn many to the same idea of cooling down and Venice turned out to be completely packed with families and school children.  There were couples too, taking walks down by the docks. 

Felicity couldn't remember the last time she'd been out in public that weren't work related or for an event, but the crowdedness had both unsettled and excited her as they headed down from the parking area. 

She'd stayed close to Oliver while Sara and Caitlin took Lennox along to debate upon a good spot to settle down.  Focusing on the calming waves of the ocean, the blonde looked out as she watched some of the older kids try to run into the bigger ones.

"You cold?" Oliver asked, his voice only loud enough so she could hear. 

Felicity shook her head softly, but reached out to hold onto his forearm. 

The action made him lean his head down.  He'd learn a lot about her gestures after living with her for the last six months. 

"Do you... do you think we could take a walk down there?"

Oliver followed her gaze to the large expand of shore that had seemed to stretch on for miles. 

"Don't see why not." 

When he turned his head back, he'd found Felicity peering up at him with those big eyes - a little smile slowly building on her face. No woman's smiled at him like that before.

 

 

_By tomorrow we'll be lost amongst the leaves,_

_In a wind that chills the skeletons of trees,_

_And when the moon, it shines, I will leave two lines._

_Find my love, then find me._

 

 

"Are you going to stop any time soon?"

She was _giggling_.

His ears, despite the multitude of background noise, tuned only to this sound.  And how he'd wished he could've recorded it somehow. 

It'd happened in the midst of a second, while Oliver's attention was completely taken to how fast Felicity's mouth was moving.  Only if he'd known that all it took was some kid kicking a beach ball right into his face, followed immediately by an inappropriate amount of sand thrownonto his front - then he would've probably done it much sooner. 

The kids quickly took their escape after retrieving their beach ball, leaving Oliver covered in muddy water and a heft load of sand on the lower half of his body. 

"Sorry," her hands shot up to cover her mouth.  The sunglasses she had on fell having been caught off guard, and he could see the mirth in her eyes not disappearing.

"You don't look sorry."  

"You could use a rinse," Felicity shrugged coyly - her eyes daring to meet his.  "Good thing we're at a beach."

Oliver raised an eyebrow, keeping their gaze as amusement bounced back and forth challengingly.

The blonde had known exactly when to admit defeat however, when she'd noticed a slight smirk form on his face to match the mischief dancing in his eyes. 

"I don't know, I think you're looking a little weathered from all that laughing.  Maybe you need a cool off too?"

Felicity started running even before she'd heard the last of his sentence, which was smart on her part giving one step of his amounted to more than three of hers. 

She knew Oliver would never actually push her into the water, but the thrill of it all was enough for her to squeal out loud when he literally took a step and caught up to her. 

"Uh uh, Oliver - no..."  She'd slapped his arms away while laughing. "I'm not afraid to push Ol - Oliver!"

Felicity's eyes widened as Oliver fell backwards right into the water before relief settled in as she heard his laughter on the way.  For a moment, she'd really thought her little arms were strong enough to push down a man literally twice her size. 

"That wasn't funny!" Felicity pouted slightly as she grabbed onto the hem of her maxi skirt and followed the shallow end to reach him. 

Oliver only gave her a wink before pulling himself up easily.  He was soaked from head to toe, but grinning down at her like it hadn't bothered him at all. 

He looked younger like this, Felicity had thought as they'd continued to stare at each other.  A foreign sense of calm found in both their eyes. 

It was a big beach, but Oliver hadn't even registered the initial scream until much later on, when chaos had already ensued and police sirens were heard in the background.

He grabbed Felicity on instinct - shielded her body with his own and began to scout the area for the girls and Lennox, who were most likely back in their car as the beach began to clear out quickly by the police. 

"What's - what's happening?" He heard the blonde underneath him ask, her voice suddenly small again and unsure. 

She was _scared._

_He got distracted._

Oliver didn't - couldn't answer her. Instead, his eyes searched for their car amidst many others who were trying to do the same and pushed the blonde inside as soon as he saw it.

He'd tossed his phone to Felicity, who fumbled with Sara's name on the dial as he backed the car from the packed lot. 

But all Oliver could think about on the drive back was how he hadn't even bothered to check the perimeters when they got here in the first place. 

He got distracted _._

* * *

  

The sun seemed to have disappeared quickly afterwards as the evening drifted in with its dark sky and roaring winds.  Oliver opened the doors into what looked like an Irish Pub and scanned the dimly lit room until they landed on the stool in the corner edge of the bar. 

As he made his way towards her, the local news channel played on the screen in the background - the volume only turned up enough for those sitting at the bar to hear. 

_"... A gunshot was fired this mid afternoon down at Venice Beach during an altercation between a group of men, who have now all been detained and investigations are currently..."_

The bartender silently placed an empty shot glass in front of him just as he sat down. 

"I'd pour you some of mine, but I think you'd agree too that's enough recklessness for today." 

Oliver shut his eyes before looking to see Waller, tumbling with her shot of whiskey. 

"...You're tuning to E News, I'm Kathy Donovan.  After the incident this afternoon in Venice Beach, reports have been coming in and multiple bystanders have spotted none other than Felicity Smoak amongst the crowd.  Notorious for her privacy, this is an unusual place to find the singer, having never been photographed or recognized in her personal life.  Sources are unaware of her connection to the incident, if they're any, or if the star had been close enough to the scene to be injured in the process..."

Amanda made a silent gesture towards the bartender, and the regular sports channel was soon playing instead. 

They sat in silence for a while, seemingly determined to slowly drain out Oliver's patience.  He kept his head laid low, settling upon analyzing the details of the dark wooden bar top instead - sighing only after she'd finished her second round, but the brunette decided to cut in suddenly then. 

“She seemed to have enjoyed herself at the party today.  I haven't seen that look on her in a long time." 

Oliver almost turned around at that, surprise daring to peek through his eyes as he kept the rest of his demeanour blank.  

Waller kept her gaze to the drink in her hands instead, seemingly waiting for a response.

Clearing his throat, Oliver nodded. "She's been... lighter, the last six months has done her a lot of good."

"You think so," she asked.  Her eyes shifted smoothly from her drink to meet his, that smirk permanently imprinted on her face. 

"The lack of fainting and ER visits have seemed to be a good sign." He snapped, not liking the challenge in her tone. 

Waller ignored him as she signalled for another round, and the silence between them returned until the glass was filled once more.  

And for once, Oliver heard her hesitate. 

"... I found Felicity when she was eighteen.  I took her in, gave her my days and my nights, my house.  I did everything I could to get her to where she is today." Her voice strangely soft as she reminisced about their first meeting inside her mind - only giving him snippets of she'd wanted. "That... coyness, and vulnerability that you and everyone else sees? That was there _before_ I'd met her."

Waller had never talked to him about Felicity like this before, and as she did - the wheels in Oliver turned and turned, unable to see what her end goal was. 

“Gaining attention, and affection through that persona was the only way she found that was successful growing up.  And that pattern only followed her into her career - and into her own adult life." She'd continued before looking up to meet his gaze. "This is the epitome of many sexualized children.”

Whatever the implications were there made Oliver's skin crawl.

He'd never heard Felicity talk about it, her former years working as a child model.  Let alone her childhood really, now that he'd thought about it.

It made him wonder if what they'd built in the last six months was no deeper than what Waller could easily skin off in a second.  

That this... that what they had wasn't - just wasn't... as _real_ as -

That it just wasn't _real._   

“Why are you telling me this.”

“People in this industry, we live our lives on airplane mode - never connecting with anybody or anything. Felicity has never known life without manipulation, so she had fit right in. This... career, though not ideal, is the next best thing than what usually happens with girls like her."

Sensing his confusion and impatience, she sighed. "It's not pertinent that you understand everything - her story isn't mine to tell.  What I _do_ want you to know is that Felicity's completely _stunted_ by her past... she can never feel for you the way you’d want her to.  And when she realizes this - she will only think she’s failed you and proceed to hate herself more than she already does.”

Oliver sat still, his features guarded as his mind attempted to process each of her words. 

“Am I being fired?” He asked, his tone flat. 

The brunette pushed forward a twenty beside her empty glass. 

“Both of our jobs is to protect her.  You - physically, and I - everything else.  But I hired you _because_ you're good at your job, not so you can plan grad parties and look at her the way you do that gets her in the middle of a shooting without knowing."

Oliver flinched physically at that.

He didn't even _hear_ the gun shot.  Despite having been miles away from it, his ears should've long been sensitized to that sound. 

“I’m not the villain here, Mr. Queen." Waller said, searching for his gaze. "No one is in real life - everyone is just trying to do what they think it’s best.”

He turned to look at her fully. “Then we're on the same page.”  

Waller's mouth twitched before her expression blanked once more. “And you, you're what's best for Ms. Smoak?”  

“It’s not like that between us," he said, shaking his head. "We're not... I'm not -” 

“I’m not saying that you are, Mr. Queen." She cut in, her tone not unkind. "And I don't care if you don't, might, or won't admit to it yet. "

"- Then what _are_ you saying?" He bit out.  The entire conversation had been a long fucking merry go round of nothing but jabs. 

"I’m saying that you _cannot_ be.”

 

 

_By tomorrow I'll be left in the darkness,_

_Among your cold sheets._

_And your shoes will be gone,_

_And your body warmth no longer beside me._

 

 

Diggle gave him a silent nod from the sofa before putting away the newspaper. There was no light coming in or out of The House, except for the small floor lamp that offered just enough to see around. 

Oliver closed the front door softly and looked into the living room to find his client fast asleep on the couch across from his friend. 

"She's had a long day, but she said she wanted to wait for you." He whispered lowly, offering him a pat on the shoulder before heading out the door. 

The peonies he'd given her this morning sat neatly in a white clay vase as he rounded the coffee table and knelt down so he was at eye level with her sleeping form. 

Out of habit, his arms reached out to pick her up before Waller's words came in like a flood in between them. 

_"I think you'd agree too that's enough recklessness for today."_

_"I hired you because you're good at your job."_

_"I’m not saying that you are, Mr. Queen._ _I'm saying that you cannot be."_

Dropping his arms, Oliver pushed himself up and did a check around The House, making sure the doors to the backyard were locked before closing the windows above her in the living room. 

He just... stood there. Conflict burning within him - and looking creepier by the minute if he was honest. 

Sighing, he shut his eyes before grabbing one of the throw blankets and swiftly laid it across his client before leaving to his room. 

* * *

   

Felicity woke up _aching_ , the sharp jabs shooting from the bottom of her spine making her wince out in pain as she'd tried to sit up.

Looking around the empty living room, she must've fallen asleep last night waiting for Oliver.

Her side protested, screaming with her every attempt to stand, before her hands shot out to hold it as her feet touched the ground.  She'd started with a few steps, but tears immediately sprung into her eyes as the pain built like quick fire along her back and into her skull. 

Deep breaths, Felicity'd told herself as she half limped into the kitchen in search for her pills. 

Gulping down her scheduled meds, she took an extra Tylenol hoping to ease the pain. 

"Morning, Felicity." 

Her forehead wrinkled in confusion at John's voice. Had Oliver not come back last night?

"Gonna drive you to that meeting at the studio in an hour," he said kindly as he sat behind the island counter. "Oliver had to talk with Lyla and Waller."

"Oh. Okay." She nodded slowly, trying her best not to aggravate the light headedness she'd felt. 

Giving the peonies on the table one last glance, Felicity kept her nails dug into her sides and bit down her lips as she made her way into her room - hoping everything would numb out soon before the pain had consumed her completely.

 

...

 

This was Felicity's second studio meeting since coming back from hiatus, and the very first to discuss her new collaborative project with Ray. 

The nervousness played nicely along with the excitement of doing something new, she'd thought, as the elevator doors opened to her floor.  The pain medication seemed to have kicked in on the way, leaving only traces of discomfort while keeping the rest at bay. For now.

Spotting Oliver coming out of Waller's office, a small smile naturally found its way onto her face as she made her way towards him. 

His body stilled when he saw her.

This had been the longest he'd gone without talking to her, and he couldn't help but want to reflect that small twitch on her mouth.

But then yesterday would hit him like a bad memory, reminding him the reason why he came to meet with Waller in the first place.

Blinking once, Oliver had tried to channel his upmost professional stance before continuing to walk towards her.

"Felicity, do you have a minute?" His tone cool and his eyes guarded. 

He watched blankly as she searched his gaze for a minute before nodding, her little smile fraying. 

"Everything okay?" She'd asked the moment he'd brought them to an empty conference room, facing the ceiling high window to the city. 

Oliver took a good look at her then.

Her hair was still down, which was unusual when she was at work - unless she was having a migraine.  Was she?

Her eyes looked up at him behind her two tone frames, the growing weariness made him uneasy.  But he'd quickly moved on to the new dress she was wearing underneath her peacoat, a bright red number.  It was her lucky colour, she'd told him once. 

Suddenly, Oliver was regretting that he hadn't taken up Waller's offer of letting her speak to the blonde instead.  But looking back into her eyes, he knew she'd deserved more than that. 

"Sit?" He'd said instead, gesturing to the row of chair nearby.

Felicity shook her head slowly, "why were you meeting with Waller this morning?  I thought you guys already talked last night."

He turned his back to her and began to pace.

"We -  we had to discuss a few changes, which is what I came to tell you about." There was a long pause before he sighed to himself.

"I've resigned as your live-in security."

Oliver forcibly turned back around to watch as the last ember inside her eyes die out.

"Oh," he heard her barely let out. Even though she was still here, Oliver was pretty sure that she wasn't.  Not really.

Not with a million thoughts he could see clash and burn inside her head in that moment. 

Regardless, Oliver swallowed hard before continuing, "John has family so Lyla's sending in a temp as Waller interview for potential candidates."

He stood there in silence afterwards, waiting for her to say something - anything.  Somehow, Olive had expected for her to use her loud voice on him - yell at him for not consulting her on the matter.  Or wished it would happen instead of this sorrowing quiet. 

His ears picked up the slightest whisper however, after what had felt like hours later. 

Just one word.

"Why?" 

It was an honest question, one to which he'd both known and not known the answer to.

Meeting her despondent gaze with his own blank one, Oliver could only give her the former. 

"I got distracted."

 

 

_But don't bring tomorrow._

_'Cause I already know,_

_I'll lose you._

_Don't bring tomorrow._

_'Cause I already know,_

_I'll lose, I'll lose you._

 

 

With the blinds and curtains shut, the afternoon sun had turned The House into a sepia toned nostalgia.

Planted on the wooden bench, Felicity wouldn't cease from tapping against the keys of the out of tuned piano - in favour of haunting her own living room than to submit to the silence that sat waiting to taunt her. 

She'd switched between her two hands until all her fingers had begun to spasm, welcoming the pain as another distraction - anything to keep herself from thoughts she was supposed to be above of by now. 

Lennox was asleep in her room, and Felicity couldn't bare to look at him. 

Every second repeating to herself not to think. 

_Don't think, don't think, don't think. Stop thinking._

Instead, she played herself into a role of third party, watching passively as her own life happened around her. 

Felicity watched herself shake hands when John arrived with the new temp, and sat quietly while Sara, Carrie and the rest of the team painted her nails, curled her hair, and dressed her up. 

_Don't think, don't think, don't think. Stop thinking._

Even after the front door had closed on her and she was once again left to her own demise, she found solace in turning on every tv and radio she found around The House. 

But the second her eyes fell onto the wilting peonies on the coffee table, **_s_ _he_** flooded in like a dam opening for the very first time. 

She'd tried to push it away, to squeeze back into that forgiving mask - but like something inevitable - it'd eventually beaten what were left of her defences before surrounding her mind with  ** _her_** words.

The phone dial had barely registered with her until she'd heard his familiar voice. 

_"You've reached Oliver Queen, you know what to do after the beep."_

Her chest stammered as her fingers jumped to end the call - only to be defeated by her mouth opening. 

The words came out in a tumble, at a volume so pathetic Felicity wasn't even sure if the phone could pick up at the sound.

She'd hoped it wouldn't.

_"... Wa - was it something I did?"_

Felicity couldn't stop it, stop pressing her fingers to redial - most of them contained just short fifteen seconds of her pitiful breathing. 

 _ **She**_ was enjoying this, Felicity had thought - enjoyed watching her restrain from pulling each of her own hair out to find the reason of why she'd driven him away. 

** _"Maybe because you've just threatened to pull a Britney 2007 after a guy decided to resign from your company."_ **

** _"Or maybe, he'd finally saw just how fucking pathetic you really are."_ **

Her hands dropped the phone as they shot up to cover her ears.

She shook her head frantically.  No, no, no. 

_Don't think, don't think, don't think. Stop thinking._

She couldn't - it was just  _too easy_ to fall back into this again. 

** _"You always do this, you know. I warned you again and again, but you swallow those pills and fill yourself with delusions and still wonder why they always leave."_ **

_Don't think, don't think, don't think. Stop thinking._

You need to STOP this.

JUST. STOP IT. STOP THINKING. STOP BEING SO FUCKING WEAK, WHY CAN'T YOU JUST - 

** _"You think quitting drugs will make you all sparkly and new again? Will make you be wanted again? Isn't that what got you into those things in the first place?"_ **

She needed to take her medication, focus on the tasks. 

Just focus on the fucking tasks, Felicity.

** _"If it's not cigs, it's coke - if it ain't that, it's wine.  And if ain't any of them you'll just find something else. Or someone else. That's what he is to you isn't it?"_ **

 

...

 

Matt had found her later in the kitchen gulping down a cup of pills, before looking down at his watch to confirm this was about the time she was getting picked up.

"Hey, uh it's Matt right?" Felicity looked up and offered him a polite smile, hoping the drops have cleared up the red in her eyes.  

He returned the gesture easily and nodded. "Do you need me for anything before you leave?"

Shaking her head, she wrapped herself in the jacket Sara had laid out. "I'm just going to wait out by the porch for Ray's driver, but thank you."

 

 

_But don't bring tomorrow_

_'Cause I already know,_

_I'll lose you._

_Don't bring tomorrow_

_'Cause I already know,_

_I'll lose, I'll lose you._

 

 

"You found another gig or something?"

Oliver looked up from his papers to find John waving a bag of takeout and settling down on the office couch.

"I'm still doing her security.  I'm just, I don't think live-in is right for me that's all."

"Uh huh." he heard him respond before adding. "Did ya'll fight or something?"

He rolled his eyes at that. "I know how to be professional John."

"Uh huh."

"Are you gonna keep up with that? 'Cause I'm going to leave."

There was a pause before John spoke again, his voice sober this time.

" - Was this about Venice?"

Oliver's hand stilled at the word, before shutting his eyes as he put down the pen and covered his face. 

"How could I have _not_ heard the gunshot, Dig?"

He heard his friend sigh before countering. "It wasn't even in range Oliver -"

"What about all those fucking screaming people around us huh? I couldn't even - she could've... you should've seen the panic in her eyes I -"

"You were off, Oliver. One time." The man had tried to cut in. 

"I'm never off, I _wasn't_... off." Oliver's hands slowly curled back into fists on the table as he'd tried his best to calm back down. "I was distracted."  
  
"So you resigned after getting... distracted?" John raised his eyebrows challengingly. "Do you know how hard it is to get another gig like this?"

Shaking his head, Oliver picked up his pen once more and continued to initial the next page of his new contract. 

"I can't protect her anymore." 

 

The sudden buzzing noise broke through the tensed conversation, as Diggle glanced down at the caller ID. 

"Lyla?" Oliver guessed, his eyes not moving away from his papers.   
  
"Hear my groan and guess again." He grunted before picking up. "Waller."  
  
Oliver watched with his peripheral as Dig's body stiffened holding the phone tightly to his ear, which was enough to unsettle his stomach as he quickly pushed away from the desk.  He was about to make a grab at the phone before John shoved it towards him. 

"She's gone." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. A little stir up of personal life has put this story on hold for a while. If anyone's still reading, thank you for your patience.
> 
> 2\. The end was a POV / continuation of the Flash Forward from CH10
> 
>  
> 
> Questions or comments, please leave them below or at maverickyoung.tumblr.com x

**Author's Note:**

> Questions, comments? Leave your thoughts below x


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